


Dark Drabble Request 2021

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: Captain America (Movies), Defending Jacob (TV 2020), Knives Out (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Devil All the Time (2020)
Genre: Breeding, Dark Drabbles, Drabbles, F/M, Fingering, Hitting, Multi, Oral, Rape, Requests, Tags to be added, forced pregnanct, noncon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 35,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29614464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: A collection of drabbles I've been writing on Tumblr.Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, fingering, breeding and mentions of forced pregnancy. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Relationships: Andy Barber/Reader, Bucky Barnes/Reader, Lee Bodecker/Reader, Ransom Drysdale/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader, stucky/reader - Relationship
Comments: 66
Kudos: 255





	1. Special Order (Lee Bodecker)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to anyone who checks these out, they're all just random. As always, I'll see you in the comments. Love you guys.

**Based on this drabble request: Lee Bodecker + “Why are you crying?” + breeding/forced pregnancy + y/n is a waitress and the sheriff is obsessed with her, and what better way to make her his 4ever than put some babies on her.**

* * *

“He’s here again,” Mandy said as you loaded up your tray.

You didn’t need to ask who, you heard his gruff response as he came in and was seated in his usual booth. He was always alone but insisted on a whole family-sized table to himself. You sighed and gave Mandy a look.

“I’ll just get this taken care of then see to him,” you promised as you turned carefully.

“Good, ‘cause I ain’t dealin’ with him no more and he won’t deal with no one but you,” she whined and put a ticket in the window.

“Yeah, I know,” you made yourself smile, “stubborn man that one.”

“I ain’t know why he prefers you,” Selma said as she loaded the coffee machine, “probably ‘cause none of us got the patience for that.”

“Patience,” you scoffed, “not what I would call it.”

You swept over to the family of five and set out the plates one at a time. You finished up at the table and replaced your tray on the stack. You looked at the sheriff and he stared back expectantly. He did that, just watched until you came over.

You went over with a sickly sweet smile and took out your notepad. You tapped your stubby pencil on the paper.

“And what are we gettin’ today, sheriff?” you asked in your sugary tone.

“Ah, now don’t be usin’ that voice with me, honey,” Sheriff Bodecker said as he fiddled with the menu.

“You need to start treatin’ the other girls nice,” you retorted.

“I don’t like the other girls,” he read his menu and frowned, “I never tried the… onion dip.”

“Uh huh,” you said unimpressed, “well, I’ll just warn you, sheriff, I can’t and I won’t stop Mandy from spitting in between the bread.”

He frowned at you and put the menu down. “I’m sorry, it’s not that I’m tryna be rude, honey–”

“What did I tell you about callin’ me that? I’ll overlook it once or twice but I’m not one to put up with your gull, you know that,” you lowered your brows at him.

“I’m not tryna be rude, miss,” he corrected himself, “I’m only… I only prefer you is all.”

“Sure, sure, is it my sunny smile or my breezy demeanour,” you teased, “the onion dip then?”

“Club sandwich, extra bacon… miss,” he folded up the menu, “please and thank you.”

“I’ll have Mandy bring it right over,” you said, “now you don’t make me come back, I got other customers.”

👮

When the diner closed, you took your usual route home. Your tips were tucked deep in your old purse and your scuffed soles padded on the pavement, then the dirt path that trailed off to the old country house. You lived with your ma on her father’s ancient farm, your pops long dead.

As you turned up the hill that led to the long drive, a flash of lights stopped you in your tracks. You looked up at the distant house, a single window lit by the old oil lamp your ma still used. You sighed and turned to face the cruiser parked in the shadows of the beech tree.

You recognized the silhouette as he stood straight behind the driver’s door. The sheriff fixed his hat as he came around and looked you over in the early twilight. He didn’t spend much time in town, often riding around the county and only stopping by to sit down at Sal’s and terrorise the waitresses.

“Sheriff,” you greeted, “whatcha doin’ around here?”

“Whatcha think?” Bodecker asked as he leaned against the hood, his large stomach sticking out from his open leather jacket.

“My ma’s waiting on me, I brought her leftovers from the diner,” you waved the paper bag.

“They already cold,” he lit a smoke and flicked it, “I wanna see ya.”

“Now, sheriff, we had our time–”

“I always thought I tip you well considerin’ the mouth on ya,” he took a long draw on the cigarette, “ain’t you?”

“Of course, sheriff, but I’m not on the clock right now and ma be expectin’ me,” you said.

He took another drag and threw the half-smoked stick away. He stood straight and reached to his holster. He unsnapped the small strap but made no move to free the pistol. You took a step back, terrified, and swallowed.

“Sheriff,” you said cautiously.

“Honey, please, you know I don’t be wantin’ to hurt you now,” he ran his thumb along the butt of the gun, “so you come put down those scraps and let me get a good look.”

You stared at his hand on his pistol. You took a deep breath and stepped closer. You set paper bag on the hood of his car and he slid your purse from your other arm. He tossed it beside the leftovers and trailed his fingers down your arm.

“I always thought that was a nice colour on ya,” he grabbed your wrist and pulled you against him, your ankles twisted and you collided with his round stomach.

“Thank you,” you looked past him as you smelled the bacon still on his breath.

“Look real nice, honey,” he undid the top button of your dress and you flinched, biting down as you stared at the beech bark. He groped your chest and you closed your eyes. When you opened them, they were wet. **“Why are you crying?”**

“Can I go now?” your voice wobbled despite your effort to hide your distress.

“We ain’t even started, honey,” he undid another button, and another, and exposed your cleavage above your brassiere “Look at you.”

“Please, sheriff, I want to go home,” you caught his hand and he grabbed your jaw. You choked on your fear as he turned you and pushed you against the bumper.

“You’ll be home soon enough,” he snarled, “you put your hand down my pants and make me let you go.”

You shook your head in disgust. You looked him in the face, all the light drained from his eyes as his jowls lined with malice. He squeezed your jaw and you cried out in pain. You reached to his belt blindly and fumbled to undo the buckle. You felt how hard he was through his pants as you pushed down his fly.

“You’re hurtin’ me,” you whispered as you pushed beneath his briefs.

“I could do a lot worse,” he threatened, “ah that’s it, honey.”

You wrapped your fingers around his dick. He was thick and hard against your palm. You stroked him and he shuddered as he leaned against you. His hand slipped down to play with your chest again. He had you pinned to the car as you kept your wrist moving in the confines of his pants.

He groaned and trembled as he urged you faster and you obeyed, turning your head to look at the farmhouse just up the rise. He grabbed your face again and leaned in. His hot breath grazed your lips and he pressed his mouth to your cheek.

He edged you back onto the car and stepped between your knees. Your skirt rode up as he forced your legs wide around him. You pushed on his chest with your free hand and he flung you onto your back with a vicious shove.

You sprawled across the hood, your bags falling to the ground as he grabbed your hips. He ripped your hand from inside his pants and rolled his briefs under his dick. You kicked out as he reached under your skirt and wrestled off your underwear. You cried out as he ripped them free of one ankle.

“No, please, don’t do this. Sheriff, please–”

“You can keep callin’ me sheriff,” he purred as he bent over you again and searched for your entrance with his fingers.

“How long’s it been?” he asked as he caught his tip and poked it along your hole, “Two years, you think I’ll wait forever.”

“I don’t– Get off of me,” you sank your nails into his leather jacket desperately, “get–”

You gulped as he sank into you all at once. It hurt and sent a pang up your spine. Your wet eyes began to leak as you realised you couldn’t stop him. He thrust and sent another agonizing bolt through you.

“Two years, honey, you think we got time left?” he rutted between ragged pants, “‘bout time you get a baby on ya.”

“Wha– oh, please–” you gasped as he kept you pinned to the cold hood of the car.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of ya,” he rasped, “you ain’t gotta keep pourin’ coffee.”

“Stop,” you whispered and closed your eyes, “please..”

Your pleas fizzled and you let him get on, praying it would end. He fucked you harder with each thrust, fueled by your pathetic cries and the sound of him inside of you. He cradled your head as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breath singed your skin as he spasmed and spilled inside of you.

When he stopped, you couldn’t move. He pulled out of you with a grunt and his cum dripped from your cunt. You nearly slipped down the hood and barely got your feet under you before you could crumple. You rubbed your fingers through the sticky cum on your thigh and refused to look at him.

“Look at the mess you made of me, honey,” he purred, “the mess I made of you.”

You wiped his cum on your skirt, revolted by the cooling slickness. You pulled your dress straight and left your underwear in the dirt. You glanced at him but he didn’t make a move, only watched you with delight as his hands rested on his open belt.

Numb and unsure, you turned and grabbed up your purse and grease-stained paper bag from the ground. He chuckled and you heard his belt clink. You stumbled through the dirt as he let you go.

“I be seein’ you tomorrow,” he called after you, “I’ll make sure to take a long lunch.”

👮👮👮


	2. Rank and File (Bucky Barnes)

_**Warnings** : noncon sexual acts and rape, blow job_

_This is dark!Bucky Barnes and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you._

**Based on this drabble request:** **Bucky Barnes + “You better apologize and you better make me fucking believe it.” + training/discipline + Back talking to the Winter Soldier during basic training gets you in more trouble than you ever thought possible. As requested by @americasass81**

* * *

You dropped down the other side of the wall, your boots tramping up the dirt as you gulped for air. You pumped your arms as you raced for the flag at the end of the course, the rest of the cadets at pace with you. You passed the blue banner just as Gomez did, a toe ahead. You stopped and bent over to catch your breath.

“Congrats, cadet,” you looked up, expecting the medallion to be passed to you, a little healthy competition between trainees. Instead, Sergeant Barnes strung the ribbon around Gomez’ neck.

You wanted to say something but you knew better. Barnes turned and caught your eyes, the corner of his mouth twitched. He knew you’d won and it was a deliberate show of his authority. You stood straight and wiped the sweat from your brow as you caught your breath.

 _Whatever_ , he was still sour from mess. You might have been out of turn but his rank was little reason for him to be an ass. As the cadets were taking their turn on the serving trays, he barged through for his second helping. You didn’t like that as Al-Barrah had the last scoop of scrambled eggs snatched up from under her by the broody sergeant.

You said something and he didn’t like it. He suspended your breakfast privileges and sent you off for latrine duty. That should have been it.

You stood at attention as he went over the times and read out the evening duties. Again, you would have to scrub the toilets as Gomez got away with sweeping the mess hall with several others. 

You were dismissed and you turned to follow the rest back to your quarters for your brief rest before the evening meal and chores. Barnes called you back and the others passed you with curious, if not mocking looks. You turned and saluted.

“Sir,” you dropped your hand and stood with shoulders back and straight.

“With me,” he ordered and hit your shoulder with his as he passed you.

You turned and followed him. He led you past the cadets’ barracks and to the officers’ hall. He opened a door marked with his rank and name and led you inside. He closed the door, as good as slammed it, and you stood ready in front of his desk. He paced along your left side and stopped at the corner of the desk.

“I could write you up,” he said, “a formal warning, a permanent stain on your record.”

“Sir,” you said, fighting to keep your derision buried.

“Well, is that it, cadet?” he snarled.

“Sir, I completed latrine duty as bid and I have performed all my tasks as you prescribed,” you said, “If a demerit is what you deem appropriate, I will accept it.”

He exhaled and moved in front of you. He leaned against the desk informally and crossed his arms. His uniform strained around his thick arms as the metal plates contracted.

 **“You better apologize and you better make me fucking believe it,”** he sneered.

“Sir,” you swallowed back your spite, “I apologize, sergeant, for my disrespect. I should not have spoke out of turn.”

He ran his thumb over his lip then bit it as he considered you. 

“I don’t believe you, private, let me hear some real remorse.”

“Sorry, sir, I was wrong for challenging your authority,” you forced out and clenched your jaw.

He chuckled and dropped his arms. You kept your head up and your eyes aimed at his face, You heard his belt but didn’t dare look down. You must be wrong, you had to be. His zipper assured you that you weren’t not. He smirked and you inhaled slowly.

“That’s the thing, I don’t want to hear your apologies,” his arm moved as he stroked himself, “don’t you think you can show me how sorry you are?”

“Sir, this is highly inappropriate, I could–”

“If you walk out of this office, I will report you for sexual impropriety and do you think they will take the word of a private over mine?”

Your mouth was dry as his words sank in. If you marched out that door, your career was over, all your years of training would be nothing.

“Sir?” you said.

He pointed to the floor and stood straight. His hand continued to move along his dick as he planted his feet. You stepped forward and got down to your knees. You sucked in your cheeks as your jaw tensed.

“Gonna have to loosen up, cadet, if I feel teeth, you will be served a reprimand,” he held his dick and grabbed your chin, “Got it?”

You pushed against your lips until you opened your mouth. You smothered your anger as he slid to the back of your throat and you suppressed a gag. You wouldn’t let him see you squirm.

He forced himself deeper and your throat tightened around him. You could hardly breathe and balled your hands at your side, resisting the urge to grab onto him. He moved your head up and down and you closed your eyes. You wanted it to be over and if all you had to remember was the feel of him, all the better.

He pushed himself to his limit and held you there until your head swelled. You kicked your feet and grabbed his wrist. He eased you back and snickered.

“Put some effort into it, private,” he bucked his hips and you nearly gagged, “make me believe you’re sorry.”

🎖️🎖️🎖️


	3. Final Warning (Lee Bodecker)

**_Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, violence, blood, breeding/forced pregnancy_ **

**_This is dark!Lee Bodecker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you._ **

**Based on this drabble request:**

**Lee Bodecker + “You don’t talk to me like that. Ever.” + abuse of power + One of reader’s relatives has broken the law and Lee will let them off with a warning…as long as he gets to have the reader. As requested by @navybrat817**

* * *

Conrad pulled over as the siren wailed behind you. You cussed and sunk down in your seat. 

“Dammit, Conrad, I told ya to slow down,” you huffed at your brother.

You peeked over the back of the seat as the car door closed. The sheriff carried his pad of tickets and fixed his gun belt before he marched through the gravel. You swore again, that time silently, _could it not have been any other officer in the county?_

“Sir,” Conrad said as he leaned his arm out the open window, “my tail light flickerin’ again?”

“Now don’t act like you don’t know what you did,” Sheriff Bodecker said, “Conrad, I been easy on you but you keep on.”

“Ain’t no one out here,” Conrad said with a laugh, “we just havin’ fun.”

“We?” The sheriff bent to look through at you and suppressed a smile. 

He had a habit of running into you, especially after your shift at the grocer, and he did quite a bit of shopping while on duty. He wasn’t subtle or welcomed.

“You got your sister in the car and you drivin’ like that? Now that’s a charge of endangerment, maybe even criminal negligence.”

“Ah, sheriff, I ain’t hurt no one, don’t be silly–”

“You don’t talk to me like that. Ever.” Bodecker snarled as he pointed a finger in Conrad’s face, “you gon get out of this car.”

The sheriff stepped back and placed his notepad on the roof of the car. Conrad rolled his eyes as he swung open the door. Despite his pudgy stomach and molasses like demeanour, Bodecker had your brother spun around and bent over the hood in a matter of seconds.

“Your daddy payin’ all these fines ain’t teachin’ you no lessons,” the sheriff growled, “if I was a real bastard, I’d have this piece of shit taken down to the dump.”

“Ow, sheriff,” Conrad grunted as he was cuffed, “why you doin’ this? No one got hurt.”

“No, but they will if you keep on,” the sheriff pushed him back down as he tried to stand, “so I’ll show you what that’ll feel like, boy.”

“What do ya mean?” Conrad scowled, “you uncuff me and write me a damn ticket.”

The sheriff ripped Conrad off the hood and tossed him into the dirt. He kicked his stomach and then gave a swift boot to his face, “you stay there and I’ll teach ya, boy.”

Bodecker spun and you watched in horror as he approached your side of the car. You grabbed the handle but not quick enough as he wrenched open the door. 

“I told him to slow down, sheriff,” you said.

“Ain’t no matter,” he ripped you out of the car and you wrestled against him as his arms wrapped around you, “he needs to be taught a good lesson.”

“What are you doin’?” You cried out, “let me go, I didn’t do nothing.”

He had you face down over the hood just like Conrad had been. Your brother watched from the dirt and struggled to get his knees under him.

“You walkin’ round in your skirts, flirtin’ with all those men at your counter,” he spat.

“I done nothing like that,” you argued as he forced your hands behind your back. He cuffed you too as Conrad got shakily to his feet.

The sheriff left you on the hood and turned to grab your brother. He slammed his head down against the metal bumper and Conrad coughed up blood as he sank back to the ground. You cried out as the sheriff came back around and stopped you from standing. He gripped the back of your neck and held you down.

“Don’t fight it or he won’t get back up ever,” Bodecker hissed and you stilled. Conrad sputtered and writhed in the dirt. 

“Don’t you hurt her,” Conrad blubbered.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth, boy,” he growled as he reached around to unbutton your loose jeans, the denim was patched and you always wore them when you went driving, “now you let me see what you been hidin’.”

You turned your face down and leaned your head on the hot metal. You couldn’t look at your brother. Bodecker turned your head back and pinned it down to the hood.

“I want him to see how he hurt ya,” the sheriff snarled as he tore your jeans down, then the cotton of your underwear. He rubbed the rough fabric of his pants against your ass, “see how he took that sweet smile from ya.”

He unzipped his pants and slid himself through his fly. You felt him along your thigh then poking at your cunt. You whimpered as he pressed against your opening and stretched you around his tip. You’d never taken a man before, not there. You had some fun with your hands and mouth but your pa always told you to be good.

He took a loud breath and rammed into you. You shouted as he filled you and your toes slid in the dirt. His hands gripped your shoulders as his fingers hooked painfully around them. He began to fuck you with jerky thrust, punctuated by his hips crashing into you painfully. Your startled groans turned to rampant sobs.

He didn’t let up as your voice carried on the low breeze and your brothers eyes welled and closed.

“Open up, boy,” the sheriff barked, “or I’ll break her fucking back.”

The car rocked with each vicious tilt of his hips and you blinked through your tears, the blur of your brother’s helpless anguish never left you. The sheriff hummed as he sped up, each time you thought it was too much, he went harder.

“Pretty girl, always smilin’ at me, ain’t ya,” he tickled your head as he stretched his other hand across the middle of your back, “the way you move those hips.”

You stared at the dirt, numb and helpless. He panted heavily and his pace stuttered. He pushed himself to his limit and groaned with a cuss.

“Damn, girl,” he caressed your back and slid out of you, his cum trickling out into your jeans, “I think you’ll remember that, both of ya.”

He uncuffed you and you slapped the hood to keep on your feet. He went to Conrad as he zipped up and knelt beside him. He unlocked his cuffs too and grabbed his chin, the blood smearing beneath his fingertips.

“When she’s big with me, when my child calls you uncle,” he taunted, “you’ll remember.”


	4. Are you sorry yet? (Steve Rogers)

**_Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, fingering, authority, violence, blood, choking, smothering._ **

**_This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you._ **

**Based on this drabble request: Steve Rogers + “You better apologize and you better make me fucking believe it.” + orgasm denial + Reader correcting Steve in front of the team. He gets very upset and teaches the Reader a lesson. Lame I know. 😬 as requested by[@angrythingstarlight](https://tmblr.co/mHJLkhCcZ24X_77TTYq6-tw)**

* * *

“You can’t go that way,” you said as you strapped on your wrist guard.

Steve looked over his shoulder as he steered the jet over the sierra. He rolled his eyes and kept his course. You unbuckled your seat and stood. You neared the back of his seat as Nat glanced back at you, the rest of the team silent and watching.

“Rogers, I told you, you can’t go that way,” you repeated.

“I have the field maps,” he insisted as he followed course, “sit down.”

“And when did you last look at them, you can’t go this–”

You were nearly tossed off your feet as he veered up, the bottom of the jet scraping along an unexpected peak. You clung to his seat as Nat reached out to keep you on your feet. As Steve righted the plane, you smacked your chin off the back of his chair and bit into your tongue painfully.

“Christ, what did I fucking tell you?” you lisped around your bloody tongue.

You retreated and sat in your seat as you cradled your jaw and swallowed the metallic taste.

“If I need your advice, I’ll ask for it,” Steve snarled, “see what happens when you distract me?”

“No, that’s what happens when you don’t pay attention,” you muttered under your breath.

Sam held out a dark cloth from his med kit and you took it to daub at your tongue. There wasn’t much you could do about it, besides you’d dealt with worse. You looked over as Sam watched you with concern and Wanda shrugged. _Typical._

⭐

Back at the compound, you stomped in after the rest of the team. Your tongue was swollen and sore. You headed back to your room, wanting to hide away from the rest of them, especially Steve. He always had to be the one in charge, always had to be right, next time you’d let him fuck up.

You stopped a few feet short of your door. Steve leaned against it with arms crossed as he watched you turn the corner. You wanted to roll your eyes but instead, you continued on and put a hand on your hip.

“Cap,” you said flatly.

“You think you’re real smart, don’t you?” he sneered.

“What is your problem? I was just doing my job, _you_ chose me as your intelligence officer,” you rebuffed.

“Maybe not the best choice considering your level of intelligence,” he stood straight and pushed his shoulders back.

“What do you want? I’m tired.”

“Well, I figured I would spare you an audience but you owe me an apology,” his brow twitched dangerously.

“Are you serious? You nearly tore the jet in half, if anything you owe me. Now move, you’re in my way.”

“I said apologize,” he grabbed your arm as his face darkened and he thrust you closer, “now.”

“Let me go, captain, or I’ll report you for–”

 **“You better apologize and you better make me fucking believe it,”** he swung you around so that you hit your door, “go on, you want to do this in private, let’s do it in private.”

“Fuck off, Steve,” you turned and flung your elbow out at him. He caught your arm and reached for the doorknob. He twisted and shoved you through so hard you landed on your knees. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You pushed yourself to your feet as he slammed the door. He caught the back of your neck and squeezed. He dragged you to the bed and hooked his leg around yours so you fell forward onto your stomach. He pinned you over the bed, your knees on the floor.

“Say sorry,” he loomed over you.

“Get the fuck off–”

He turned your head and pushed it into the mattress. He held your face down until you thought you would suffocate. You beat at the bed as you tried to force yourself up and he yanked your head up by your hair.

“Steve–”

“Captain,” he lifted you to your feet, “Let me hear it, ‘sorry, Captain’.”

“Get off–”

“Wrong,” he threw you so that you bounced atop the bed. 

You rolled over and he caught your ankles as you tried to kick out at him. He climbed over you and straddled you beneath him. He leaned back so you were trapped beneath his weight. You smacked his chest and he bent your fingers back until you cried out.

“I will break them one at a time,” he snarled.

“I was fucking right,” you spat.

“I don’t fucking care, you don’t talk to me like that,” he pushed your hand down, “I’m still waiting.”

He cupped his ear mockingly and you clamped your lips shut. He glared down at you and struck you hard across the cheek.

“You know how much I wanted to do that on the jet? You’re fucking lucky.”

“I’d do it again,” you hissed, “you ego–”

He hit you again and shook out his hand. He watched his fingers bend and straightened and peeled off his leather glove. He removed the other and tossed them away. He smirked down at you and lifted himself on his knees. You planted your heels and tried to push out from under him. 

He caught the top of your pants and backed off the bed, tearing them down your legs as you cried out.

“Hey,” you sat up and reached for them and he shoved you back down so hard you were dizzy. He grasped your panties and you latched onto his hands. He easily wrenched away and ripped the cotton past your ankles.

“You will be sorry,” he pulled your legs apart as you twisted and writhed to get away from him, “you’re really gonna make this hard.”

“St–”

He pulled you down so that your ass was just below his crotch. His hand spread over your throat and he gave a squeeze.

“Captain,” he corrected again. 

Your nostrils flared and your throat burned. He removed his hand and shoved it between your legs. You flinched and tried to bat him away. He sent you a look so terrifying it made you gasp.

“Do you know how many ways I could break you?” he growled, “do you really want to find out?”

“Why–”

“Shh,” he pressed against your entrance with two fingers and poked inside. You yelped as you tried to close your legs around him but only hugged his sides with your knees, “what do you want?” he sank to his knuckles, “do you want this or do you want me to finish breaking the pretty little face?”

“St–Captain, why–” you moaned as he curled his fingers and pushed the heel of his hand to your clit.

“All you have to do is apologize,” he rocked his hand and the heat built against his palm.

You snapped your mouth shut and shook your head. He moved his hand faster and the tension wound in a coil. You bit the heel of your hand, ready to explode when suddenly he stopped.

“Say sorry and I’ll let you cum,” he said.

You gulped in air and flung your hand down to the bed. You shook your head, “no.”

He pulled his fingers out and tickled along the crease of your thigh. You twitched and he kept up until you could barely handle it. He slid back into you and began the same torturous motion, your core thrumming wildly and shamefully. Again, he stopped right before the peak.

“Sorry yet?” he asked as he took his fingers out and held them up, “I know you want to cum, I can feel it.”

“Fuck off,” you snarled.

He caught you with his left hand before you could wriggle away. He made a show of licking his wet fingers and burying them once more in your cunt. He snickered as again he coaxed the pleasure from your body. And like before, he stopped just as your breath hitched and you cunt began to quiver.

“I can do this all day,” he growled, “can you?”


	5. Neighbourly (Bucky Barnes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, cheating, name calling, choking.  
> This is dark!Bucky Barnes and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Based on this drabble request: Bucky Barnes + “But you’re married.” + enemies/hate + Bucky hates reader (his wife’s friend) but at the same time don’t want other men near to her.**

* * *

The door opened and you nearly flinched at the sharp blue eyes the greeted you, almost as blunt as the edged “hey”.

“Oh, uh, I was– This is Anna’s,” you held out the round cake dish, you’d noticed it after last weekend’s barbecue, “thought I’d bring it back before I forgot.”

“Mmm,” Bucky eyed the little blue flowers around the rim and took it stiffly, “thanks, she’s not here so I’ll get it to her.”

“Alright, I..” you stuttered. Bucky Barnes was entirely off putting. His wife was your best friend on the street, yet he seemed to resent you for that, “well, thank you.”

You turned to flee before you withered beneath his impenetrable glare. You still didn’t know why he hated you so much, you only knew that when he came home and you were having a glass of wine with Anna, he barely acknowledged you, and on several occasions had failed to lower his voice when asking why you were there. 

It was worse even that you saw how friendly he was with the other neighbours. To you, he was a completely different man than the helpful suburban husband offering to mow Agnes’ lawn as he did his own.

“Hey,” you stopped at the bottom step and turned back to him, “that guy, you know, the one with the loud car, you wanna tell him to keep it down?”

“Brock?” you blinked and shook your head, “yeah, sure.”

“Really? Six a.m.?” he gripped the thick glass, “there’s children in this neighbourhood.”

“I get it, okay? I’ll let him know,” you sniffed and spun back to the walk.

“So he’s coming back?” Bucky asked.

You froze and breathed through your nostrils, “what do you care?”

“He’s not really… the type we welcome around here,” he sneered.

You turned on your heel and frowned at him, “As far as I recall, the HOA has no authority over my personal relationships.”

He snickered darkly and set the dish on the metal table beside the long bench. He stomped down his front steps and came up in front of you.

“Well, noise disturbances are within jurisdiction, you didn’t put on quite the show for everyone last night,” he smirked.

“Bullshit,” you refused to back down as he planted himself in front of you.

“Ah, you’re right, didn’t hear much but you left your curtains wide open, anyone could have walked by,” he looked down his nose, “I know I got a good look.”

“Dude, what is your problem?”

“You sure moved on quick,” he growled.

“Is this about Sam, really?”

“No, this is about you,” he countered, “about the scum you’re bringing into your bed and our neighbourhood.”

“Fuck off and mind your own business,” you spat and stormed away.

You marched down the sidewalk and across your yard. You slammed your front door behind you and locked it as you steamed. It was none of Bucky’s business who you were fucking. _What did he care?_ Even if he did work with your ex, it was none of his business. You and Sam divorced over a year ago.

A knock came at the door, more a pounding. _Really? Was he that desperate to be right?_ You ignored him and took your phone from the counter. You paired with your speaker and turned on your favourite playlist. You turned on the faucet and started loading the plates into the soapy water. He’d go away when he realised you didn’t give a fuck.

You bopped your head to the beat as you scrubbed and loaded the rack with dripping dishes. The knocking soon faded and you dried off your hands with the checker cloth and hung it back on the bar. You scrolled through your phone for a better song but it slipped from your hand as suddenly your neck was constricted by damp fabric.

You kicked out as the dishcloth was twisted around your neck and you flailed against the hard body behind you. The music disguised the noise of your struggle as you slapped at the thick forearm that snaked around your middle.

“Bucky?” you choked out.

“Shut up,” he snarled as he turned you and pushed you against the wet counter.

“What are you–” he pulled the cloth tighter and stifled your voice.

He grabbed the top of your jeans and you wriggled as he struggled to get them down. Your feet slipped on the tile as you grasped at both the noose at your throat and the edge of the counter. He jerked your body as he forced the denim to your knees and yanked down your panties just as roughly.

“Wha–” you coughed as he pushed his arm against your back and bent you over the sink, “ **But—you’re married** – Anna–”

“This isn’t about that,” he snarled and shifted behind you, his fly biting your flesh as he rolled down his own pants, “this is about you.”

“St–” he twisted the ends of the cloth again and your head bulged from the lack of air.

“Shhhh,” he leaned over you as the song faded out and another came on.

_Sugar pie, Honey bunch…_

He lined himself up and pulled your leg back. He held your head down by the faucet as he felt around and guided his tip to your entrance. You kicked wildly but not hard as your lungs burned. He slammed into you and your hips hit the counter so hard you thought they might break. He thrust again, harder, and your eyes watered.

“What are you gonna do?” he hissed as he rutted into you, “you gonna tell my wife? You think she’d believe you? You think she doesn’t see that prick driving up to your house every night? Everyone knows what a slut you are.”

You gulped up air as he loosened the cloth for a moment but before you could scream he tightened it again. He grabbed your chin with his other hand as he crashed into your over and over. He made you look out the window over your sink at the serene sight of the breeze rippling over green grass.

“No one will believe you,” he rasped and hummed as he held back a groan, “they’re all clueless, you hear that? They’re in their gardens, they’re at their barbecues, and here you are, just like a whore.”

Your eyes rolled back as your vision spotted and your temples throbbed. Your body was jolted with each rock of his hips and soon your toes didn’t even meet the floor. You faded into an agonized daze, hardly aware of his relentless pace.

“You’ll know,” he growled, “I’ll make sure you never forget this.”

☠☠☠

**Let me know what you think.**


	6. Off All the Places (mob!Bucky Barnes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, drinking.  
> This is dark!mob!Bucky Barnes and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Based on this drabble request:** **Bucky Barnes + “You think your father would still love you if he knew.” + abuse of power + innocent reader as requested by Anonymous**

* * *

“You’re Habor’s girl,” the deep voice cut through the din of the bar.

You looked up at the man in his tailored suit, his five-o'clock shadow gave an extra edge to his sharp jaw. You smiled and batted your eyelashes in confusion. Had you met him before? Your father always had some agent passing through and you never quite kept track of them.

“You work with him?” you asked and turned your phone face down.

“Mmm, not so much,” he tutted.

You frowned. You flipped your phone but still no message. Alison said she was catching a cab twenty minutes ago. It hadn’t even taken you that long to find your way to the downtown bar, your first off-campus venture in the big city.

“Not so much?” you glanced at the man again.

“Waiting for someone?” he asked as your eyes strayed to the door.

“A friend,” you answered but before you finished he sat across from you, 

“You thirsty?”

“I’m underage,” you shrugged, “barely. We’re here for the music.”

He chuckled and signalled to a waitress, “what do you drink?”

“They won’t serve me,” you leaned back and peered around desperately.

“They will if I tell ‘em to, employees tend to listen to whoever pays their bills,” he smiled as a waitress approached, “Gin straight and…”

You cleared your throat and looked between the strange man and the waitress, “I’ll have gin as well, with club soda and a lime, please.”

“Top shelf,” he ordered before the waitress retreated.

“So you own this place?” you asked, uncertain of what else to do.

“You wanna know how I know you’re father?” he ignored your question.

“I… guess,” you narrowed your eyes. He was older than you but not as old as your dad. His interest made you uneasy.

He waited until the waitress set down the short glasses and you stirred your drink with the black straw as he watched you. He took a swig of his own without flinching and pushed his shoulders back.

“You think he’d like you being here?”

“It’s just a bar,” you said.

“Way downtown, a shady area,” he ran his fingers around the brim of his glass, “I don’t work with your father, I’d say it’s the opposite, I tend to work…” he weighed his words with a tilt of his head, “…against him.”

You took the straw between your lips and slurped. You put it back down and exhaled but the tension remained.

“How do you know who I am?” you asked.

“You young ones post so much online,” he said coolly, “you’re dad did look real proud at your graduation, didn’t he?”

You pushed the drink away and stood. He did too and flicked two fingers in the air. Two other men appeared from the shadows and closed in on the table. He watched you as your panicked eyes flitted around the bar.

“I just wanna talk, not here though, somewhere private,” he stated.

You lowered your head and nodded in defeat, “I don’t suppose that’s a question.”

“Grab your drink,” he took his own and waved his men off, “and don’t make me call my hounds again.”

You took the glass, the condensation cold against your fingertips. He turned and you followed him to the far side of the bar and down a short hallway. He opened a door and let you through first. He snapped it shut behind him as you stood in the office and looked around.

“Sit,” he finished the command with your name as he sat on the other side of the desk.

You did as he said and placed the drink on the edge of the desk. You crossed your legs and clasped your hands together nervously. Your heart hammered in your ears and your father’s foreboding warning rang in your mind. ‘Be careful in the city and steer clear of downtown after dark’.

“Bucky,” he touched his chest as he introduced himself and reclined against the chair.

“What do you want from me?”

“Well, I really can’t get much from you. Your father likes to mess around with my business and not much I can do but keep on my toes. He does what he does and I do what I do,” he smirked, “but that doesn’t keep me from wanting some sort of vengeance.”

“I’m not– I’m just his daughter, I don’t know about all that–”

“You’re a good-looking thing,” he purred, “I promise, I don’t want to hurt you, I just want a little fun, and really I think I’m doin’ your father a favour. You won’t wanna come back around here.”

Your blood chilled and you shivered. You looked down at your lap and then over your shoulder at the door. He tisked.

“Really?” he taunted.

You turned back to him and gulped in defeat.

“Finish your drink, it’ll help you relax,” his eyes clung to your face as he raised his chin and reached for his own glass.

You took the gin and soda and winced at the stringent taste. The bubbles almost made you choke but you were so nervous that all you could do was drink. When you set it down, he stood and rolled his shoulders and pushed his head back as he stretched. He came around and stopped behind your chair, he gripped the back of it and bent so that his mouth was next to your ear.

**“You think your father would still love you if he knew?”** he growled.

“What?” you stared ahead of you and clutched the arms of the chair.

He touched your chin and tickled the front of your neck with his fingers, “what I’m gonna do to you… what you’re gonna do for me.”

He grabbed the back of your neck and thrust you up to your feet. His hands squeezed your neck and he marched you to the desk. He pushed you down so that you were bent over it and the empty glass fell to the floor and the lime spun away from it with the straw. You whined and pressed your palms to the wood.

Bucky got behind you and pushed his crotch against your ass.

“You had to walk into my joint, doll,” he sighed, “I almost feel bad for you… almost.”

He took a step back and slapped your ass. It was so hard and sudden that you cried out and he rubbed where he had struck as he shushed you.

“You don’t want anyone to hear, do you?” he warned.

“Please,” you begged.

“I figure you wearin’ this little number,” he played with the bottom of your skirt, “you want some fun, don’t you?”

He pushed your skirt up above your ass and you squirmed as his finger traced the lacy line of your panties. He hummed and slipped his fingers under the elastic at the top. You reached back and he caught your hands. He bent them until your wrists throbbed.

“You can keep it up or you can take it like a good girl,” he squeezed, “make your daddy proud.”

You quivered and closed your eyes. He dropped your hands as he felt you go limp and you drew them back up to bury your face. He tore your panties down and let them fall to your ankles. He kicked your feet apart so that you stepped out of the lace and shoved his hand against your cunt.

You gasped and he wiggled his fingers around until he found your entrance. He circled it and rescinded his touch. You heard his belt buckle and the soft whisper of his zipper. He pressed his fingers to your folds again and spread them as he angled his tip against your opening.

He eased into you a little at a time. You tensed around him and he grunted as he slammed forward against your resistance. You threw your head up and squealed. He grabbed your hips and pulled you back against him. You felt the ripple roll through him as he moved you.

“Good girl,” he praised as you could feel yourself grow wet, as you could hear it with each cruel thrust, “so fucking good.”

🍸🍸🍸

**Let me know what you think below!**


	7. Bust (Ransom Drysdale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon sexual acts, fingering, Ransom being Ransom  
> This is dark!Ransom Drysdale and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Based on this drabble request:** **Ransom Drysdale + “Just smile and no one will know.” + losing a bet + Ransom tricks you into a bet and reaps his reward, either in public or somewhere where you might get caught. As requested by[@lokislastlove](https://tmblr.co/mB9qzsbfVLq-ixoL9bohK_A)**

* * *

It was stupid. Ransom always got his way and you were sure he’d rigged the system once again. Problem was you could call him on it but you had no way of proving it. So you wore the ridiculous red dress and the painfully high heels and walked with your arm hooked through his. 

“You really go to these things?” You asked as you looked around at the stuffy tuxedos and the garish dresses.

“My grandfather needs the good press. These fundraisers make his name,” Ransom raised his chin pompously.

“You sure it’s not his writing?” you muttered.

Harlan was how you met Ransom, regretfully. The younger Thrombey was egotistical, greedy, and self-absorbed. He was nothing like the man who had named you an assistant editor. But given your position and the relation of the two men, you played nice, hence the foolish bet.

“Why don’t you ever come to these things? You work for my grandfather, he tends to invite everyone he knows.”

“Well, to avoid people like you, really,” you said tritely.

He chuckled but didn’t sound amused. He smoothed his lapel and untangled his arm from yours, only to sling it around your waist.

“You like gambling,” he said mockingly, “they’ve got a blackjack table, how about we make another bet?”

“I’ll play but not with you,” you sneered, “I’m here, I’m wearing… this, and I’m letting you touch me.”

“Oh, you think that’s it?” he raised his brows and licked his lip, “come on, let’s see if you can win this time.”

You let him guide you to the table at the far end of the immense room. You climbed up on a stool next to him. You were each given a complimentary stack of chips and dealt in. 

Ransom kept one hand on his thigh as he tossed in his bet and peeked at his cards. You called and looked at your own pair. You hit and stayed at a respectable twenty but Ransom showed an ace and a jack. You tossed your cards and the dealer made another round.

As you placed your bet, you felt a tickle and ignored it as you looked at your thirteen and contemplated folding. Ransom’s hand slid over your leg entirely and you looked over at him. He stared ahead and smirked as his fingers edged beneath the high slit in your skirt. You coughed and he squeezed your thigh.

You hit and went over. His hand crawled further up, the movement hidden from the other players by the curve of the table. You squirmed as he poked two fingers between your legs and dug his nails into your skin, a warning.

“Just smile and no one will know,” he whispered as he won again and the dealer shuffled.

You reached for your cards and folded almost immediately. You leaned your elbow on the leather ledge of the table and spoke behind your hand, “what the fuck are you doing?”

He pressed his fingers against the front of your panties, his hand firmly lodged between your thighs. You gulped in air and held it in your lungs as he found your clit through the thin fabric. He folded and watched the table play out the hand.

On the next, you bet modestly for a queen and an ace but could barely concentrate as his fingers danced on your bud. You could barely keep your breath steady as the heat gathered in his hand. You smiled as you won but said nothing, you couldn’t and stacked up your winnings.

“Stoppppp,” your whisper dragged as you peeked over at him.

He chuckled under his breath and kept going. You couldn’t reach down in fear you’d bring attention to what he was doing. You looked at your cards and nearly bent them as the tingle intensified as he sped up. You tried not to rock on the stool as you hit and went over. 

You slid your cards down and brought your hand to your mouth, biting your knuckle as you turned your face away from the other player. Your core swelled hotly and you felt the radiating pleasure pulsing and pulsing. You dropped your hand and folded without looking at your next pair.

You grasped the edge of the table and tried not to roll your eyes back as you watched the dealer work. You clamped your lips together and breathed heavily through your nose as you squirmed on the stool. You came against Ransom’s fingers, holding it back until your head pounded from the tension.

He slowly pulled away and tickled your thigh as he did, causing another spasm. He pushed all his chips into the pot. 

“All in,” he said as he cupped his chin and inhaled your scent on his fingertips, “I got a good feeling about this one.”

🃏🃏🃏

**Let me know what you think below!**


	8. Make-Up Assignment (Ransom Drysdale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, coercion, breeding/forced pregnancy.
> 
> This is dark!Ransom Drysdale and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Based on this drabble request: Ransom Drysdale + “No, not there, in my lap.” + breeding/forced pregnancy + Maybe dark professor ransom with a naive student? Like naive naive, too trusting as request by Anonymous**

* * *

Your nerves were running wild. The way your heart dropped at the sight of your grade still resonated within you. You couldn’t fail this course and if you did, you had to wait over a year to retake it and that could mean an extra term entirely.

You couldn’t help but fidget as you watched Professor Drysdale read your paper over again. You wanted to know why he gave you such a low mark, a better explanation than the slanted writing on the last page. You needed another chance.

“It’s a well written paper but your thesis just wasn’t strong enough. It’s not what we discussed,” he set it down on his desk, “it’s about symbolism and yet you spend so much time on the literal descriptions.”

You twiddled your fingers and frowned. You couldn’t say you didn’t struggle with the essay but all that effort, the sleepless nights, and the hours spent bent over a library table had done nothing to help. _Were you really that hopeless?_

“Can I– Can I make it up?” you asked, “please, I could rewrite it or do an extra paper–”

“I don’t do that,” he shook his head, “it’s not fair, is it? You had as much time and resources as every other student–”

Your eyes blurred with tears as you folded your hands against your lips. You bit down and sniffed back the wave of dread. It wasn’t impossible to pull yourself back up on your other assignments but it wouldn’t be easy.

“Hey, come on,” he leaned forward, “don’t cry.”

“I’m not– I’m sorry, I’m just overwhelmed,” you dropped your hands, “I really did try and I just… I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Well,” he flipped the front page again and perused your introduction, “we learn from our mistakes, don’t we? Let’s go over it and it might put things in perspective.”

“Alright, I… okay,” you murmured and wiped your sweaty palms on your skirt.

“You can’t see all the way over there, come on,” he waved you around the desk and slid his chair back just a little.

You stood, slightly confused, and rounded the desk. You stopped by his shoulder and bent as his fingers tapped on the paper. He chuckled and pulled his hand back. He rubbed his thigh as he looked up at you.

“No, not there, in my lap,” he patted his leg.”

“What–I–”

“We have a lot to go over. You stand like that all night and you’ll hurt your neck,” he touched your wrist, “it’s fine.”

You scrunched your lips and stared into his eyes. It was… weird, surely it was wrong, but you needed to do better. You sidled in front of him as he pushed further back and sat carefully. He brought his arms around you and lifted your paper. His breath grazed your neck and slipped down the collar of your dress.

“Your structure is good, style too, but you need to make an argument you can support with more than… conjecture,” he began and his deep voice crawled over you, “there are several instances I can think of that would support the theme of regret but you didn’t really present them and when you did, the explanation just wasn’t there…”

You listened, or tried to as you felt heavy against him. You felt as if you were hurting him as you sat on him but he barely seemed bothered by the awkward position. When he shifted, you tried to lift yourself.

“Sorry, am I too–”

He dropped your paper and pulled you back down. Your ass met the bulge in his pants. Your head snapped up and you gripped the desk.

“Professor Drysdale,” you uttered.

“Shhh,” he slid his hands under your skirt, “you want another chance, don’t you?”

“Please,” you tried to stand and he held you down. He wiggled under you and groaned.

“Don’t act so innocent,” he rasped, “you sit in every man’s lap like this?”

His fingers pressed to the crotch of your tights and you took a sharp breath. You shivered as his other hand tanked your skirt out from under you. His fingers poked at your tights until the sheer fabric tore and he rubbed your panties as his breath hitched.

“Do you want the grade?” he asked, “or I can knock a few more percent off for inappropriate conduct.”

“Professor–”

“It’ll be quick, a fair trade,” his other hand snaked under you and he pushed down his zipped as he scratched against the nylon.

He brought his knees between your legs and spread them as he lifted you slightly. Frozen, you let him and it was only as he tore the whole in your tights bigger that you realized what was happening.

You stared at the circled number in red on the paper and gulped. He slid your panties aside and urged you down onto him. His tip met your entrance with resistance but he forced his way in and filled you completely. You whined and grabbed his hands as he gripped your hips.

“Wha–”

“That’s it,” he began to move you, “you don’t have to do anything, baby.”

You quivered and squeezed his hands harder. He leaned back and stretched his legs out as yours splayed out over his knees. He rocked into you from below and trailed his hand up the front of your skirt. He shoved his fingers through the whole and toyed with your clit as he sped up.

His fiery breaths surrounded you as the sensation of his fucking filled your core. Stunned and senseless, you could only let him use you. Even if you thought of stopping him, you didn’t have the strength. You were terrified. It was too late anyway.

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, “mmm, you’re so tight.”

“Please,” you begged as he wrapped an arm around your middle and bucked his hips wildly, “pull out, please, I’m not–”

He spasmed and muffled his moans as he came. You tried to push off of him but he held you down and kept moving, using you until he was done. He stilled and took deep breaths as he descended from the high but kept his cock buried in you.

“Why–”

“You’re so sweet,” he purred as he nuzzled your head, “you’ll make such a good little mommy.”

📚📚📚

**Please leave some feedback if you enjoyed!**


	9. House Party (Ransom Drysdale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, drinking, public sex, breeding/forced pregnancy.  
> This is dark!Ransom Drysdale and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Based on this drabble request: Ransom Drysdale + “You want to do that again… you want me to hurt you.” + breeding/forced pregnancy + just asshole emotionally manipulative Ransom requested by anonymous**

* * *

You were drunk. Very drunk.

You don’t remember how you ended up on the couch crushed beneath this man, his vodka laced lips all over you. You heard the voices around you, unaware and slurred. The punch was more Smirnoff than juice and all attendees were feeling it. There was laughter and a bang, the table broke as two guys wrestled around and the crowd cheered them on.

You didn’t like these parties. You only went because Brit needed a wing woman and all her other friends were busy. You were less excited when you found out it was at Ransom’s place but she didn’t mention that until the uber pulled up. 

Everyone knew the spoiled frat boy and he made sure he knew everyone. He didn’t like that you didn’t let him copy your work in the Latin course he hated or that you barely said a word to him beyond what was academically required. You didn’t like his money or his arrogant smirk.

_So why was he on top of you? Why was his hand up your skirt? Why was his mouth suffocating you?_

You pushed on him with a weak grumble, your body buzzed from the alcohol. Brit handed you the first red cup but the second seemed to have just appeared in your hand. Then the third you remember scooping sloppily from the bowl. _Was there a fourth?_ There were definitely shots.

He pushed his fingers against your cunt and you squeezed your legs together, your panties snug around his hand. You shoved his shoulders again and he bent his head down to bite your neck. It was a mean nip, one that made you cry out. The figures around you were shadows, their voices indecipherable.

“Ransom, stop…” you gasped as he forced your legs apart with his and poked his fingers inside of you.

“Shut up,” he snarled, “this is what you want, isn’t it? I saw you looking at me…”

“No…” you rasped as you hit his head and cried out as he bit you again. This time the pinch is so hard you feel hot blood leak from the mark.

**“You want to do that again… you want me to hurt you?”**

He snaked his hand under your ass and lifted your pelvis. He pushed against you as he kept you flush to the couch. He slipped his fingers out and fought to unbutton his jeans. You panicked and he blocked another slap.

“You keep this up and everyone will see what a slut you really are,” he sneered.

He reached between your bodies again and this tip you feel his tip against your thigh. He held your panties aside as he prods your entrance and grabbed onto the couch as he forced himself into you. You smother your voice and bite into your palm from the pain.

“That’s it,” he rocked against you and the couch shook with his frantic thrusts, “this is exactly what you need, you bitch.”

“Nooo…” you dug your nails into his shoulders but he didn’t miss a beat.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you won’t walk out of here,” his heavy breath seared your cheeks, “you’re gonna feel me for days,” he growled, “I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, make sure you never forget this.”

You whined and kicked around him drunkenly. Your head lolled and you looked around desperately for help. Brit was drunk and chatting with some girls, she didn’t notice as you reached out. Ransom pulled your arm back and twisted it down under his chest. He slammed his hips into you, the clap of flesh muted by the throbbing bass of the music.

“We’ll see how smug you are when you’re filled with me,” he panted, “we’ll fucking see.”

🥤🥤🥤

**Let me know what you think below!**


	10. Just Next Door (Andy Barber/dark!reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: dubcon, cheating, some cumplay, forced pregnancy/breeding.  
> This is grey!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Based on this drabble request:** **Andy Barber + “I love it when you look at me like that.” + breeding/forced pregnancy +I love dubcon more than non-con but I die if it was reversal with a darker reader or where reader absolutely tricked these got this guy into catching her and flips the script in like the last second.[@sagechanoafterdark](https://tmblr.co/m0clBObXykSPkrGukVa_MDQ)**

* * *

You watched Andy as he reached into the pool and shoved his hand in the filter. He grunted and dislodged the plastic bottle, pulling it out with a grimace as all the other muck had gathered inside of it. You cringed as he sat back on his heels and looked up at you with a sigh.

“Well, there’s your problem,” he said and you didn’t miss the way his eyes fought to stay above your bikini top.

“Thank you so much, you have no idea how frustrating it’s been. There’s so much chlorine in this thing now it could lighten my hair,” you rolled your eyes, “you really are a lifesaver.”

“No problem, it’s been pretty quiet today since Laurie dragged Jacob off to his game,” he stood and you pointed him past you. 

He held out the dripping bottle and you followed him to the sliding door. He reached through and dropped the bottle in the trash.

“You’re not there?”

“Well, you know… the kid is at that age, he doesn’t even wanna play anymore but Laurie wants him to stay in it and then he doesn’t want me there after I took her side,” he stopped himself and waved away his gripes, “whatever, he’ll get over it. Gets it from me, I was a little shit when I was his age.”

“Hmm, if you’re not busy, you want a beer? I kinda owe you?”

He swallowed and you watched his throat bob. Again, he resisted a gaze further down and squirms. You wore the new bikini proudly, months of morning jogs paid off at last and you can’t wait to show off after your ugly divorce.

“Uh, sure,” he shrugged, “can’t hurt.”

You slipped past him, certain to brush a little too close. He was a married man but you were married too and that didn’t stop Christian. Besides, you saw how he and Laurie were, you heard their arguments.

You went to the fridge as he sat on a stool along the counter, another new purchase as half the house was renovated with your alimony. You pulled open the fridge and bent low to search out the green bottles. You were more a wine person but you always kept a few around.

You heard the whisper of his breath and as you stood, you stopped and gave a playful ‘oops’ as you cradled the cold glass under your right arm and kept your back to him as you wiggled and fixed the bikini over your chest.

You turned back to him and clinked the bottle down on the island. You fished around in a drawer and brought out and opener and popped the caps. You slid one over and leaned on the counter as you took your own. You drank lackadaisically and crisp droplets spilled down your chest.

With another giggle you wiped it away and tutted at yourself. He cleared his throat as the butt of his bottle hit the marble again. You looked at him and your eyes went wide, he was staring straight at your chest. He shook his head and his eyes met yours guiltily. He grinned and tilted his head and slowly looked away.

“So, how’s work?” you asked casually.

“Pain in the ass, like everything else,” he answered and took another swig, “wouldn’t be so bad if–” he sniffed and jutted out his jaw, “nothing.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he repeated.

“You know, I didn’t see it either,” you said quietly, “with Christian, I just wanted to see the best even when it wasn’t there and then I just wanted to pretend.”

“What– no,” he scoffed, “me and Laurie…” his blue eyes searched and he drained half the bottle in a gulp, “how’d you know?”

“Once you’ve been through it, it’s easier to see,” you pursed your lips before you sipped, “but you know, if it’s early enough and you do, you might be able to fix it before it’s too cracked.”

“I don’t know,” his voice trailed off and he tapped the side of the bottle. He stared at the countertop and emptied the bottle with a loud chug, “maybe.”

“Maybe,” you echoed, “sorry, it’s really none of my business.”

He was up in a minute. The empty bottle wobbled on the counter and you stood up straight.

“Andy?” you smiled as he rounded the island.

“I like that,” he said and pointed to your bikini strap, “she doesn’t dress like that anymore. Not that she can’t, she’s fit, she jogs every morning, so I don’t get it–”

“Well, maybe if you talk to her,” he came closer and backed you up to the corner of the counter, “sometimes that’s all you need–”

“And you, I saw how hard you tried with Christian and he just didn’t care and,” he bit his lip, “he didn’t even know what he had.”

“When she gets home, you should talk, maybe you could go away–”

“We’ve talked, we’ve gone away, we’ve… tried,” he breathed as his hands settled on the counter on either side of you, “she doesn’t even care enough to fight with me anymore.”

“Andy?” you batted your lashes at him.

He crashed his lips into yours and you gasped. He leaned heavily on you and crushed you into the counter. His arms swept around you and he kissed you until you were breathless and dizzy. 

He parted and his lips parted in shock. He blinked and cringed. “I’m sorry–”

“Sorry,” you grabbed the collar of his tee and pulled him back to you, your lips only an inch from his, “for what?”

That time, you kissed him and grabbed his hand as he pushed on your shoulder. You forced it down and pressed it to the front of your skimpy bottoms. He shuddered as your tongue poked into his mouth and you bent his fingers against your cunt. You pulled back just a little and leered into his eyes.

“I love it when you look at me like that,” you slithered, “better fuck me fast, Mr. Barber.”

He let out a smoky breath and his hands snaked under you. He lifted you onto the counter as your lips met again. You unzipped his pants frantically and rolled them down, hooking your thumbs in the elastic of his boxers. He slid you closer as he popped out the top and you felt his against your bikini.

He pulled the bow at the side and then the other and the fabric fell away, catching under your thigh as he urged you closer. You grabbed him and rubbed him against your slick folds, wetting him as you moaned and lining him up with your entrance. 

You nibbled his lip and growled as you slid off the counter and onto him. He filled you so completely you threw your head back in delight. He rocked you against him and you ground wildly as your clit rubbed against his pelvis. The friction fed your core and you clung to him desperately.

You reached back and gripped the edge of the counter as you wrapped your legs around him and slammed your hips against him. He bent and kissed your throat and your chest as your top slipped again. His groans and grunts made your head spin and set your nerves alight.

“Andy,” you wisped and his name turned to a chant as you chased your orgasm.

You came and your arms trembled dangerously. He pushed you back until you were across the counter. He spread his hand over your chest and held you down as he bucked his hips. He moved your body on the marble with each thrust, his other hand on your hip.

You kept your legs around him and arched your back. You felt him tense and his climax began to tremble within him. His nails dug into your skin as his fingers curled and you watched his dark eyes as they fogged.

“Fuck, fuck,” he tried to pull out but you kept your legs tight and sat up to cling onto him again. 

You rode him until he spilled and swore when you stopped. He pushed you away and you fell onto the counter with a laugh. You pushed your legs apart and his cum leaked onto the marble. You ran your fingertips through the mess and winked at him as he stared at you in horror.

“What the fuck?” he hissed.

“Oh, it’s fine, Andy,” you brought your fingers to your lips and licked away his cum, “Christian never would give me a baby.”

👙👙👙

**Let me know what you think.**


	11. Winner Takes All (Lee Bodecker)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, fingering.  
> This is dark!Lee Bodecker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Based on this drabble request: Lee Bodecker + “I really don’t care who sees but I know you do.” + losing a bet[@sweetkingdomstarlight-blog](https://tmblr.co/mw9ze4204jOzTat9sG7BPYQ)**

👮

You sighed and threw down your hand, a full house lost against an unlikely straight flush. That was all your money and you mournfully watched the pot as the sheriff stood and smoothed out the crumpled bills. The rest of the table grumbled and several stared into their empty beer glasses.

“Why I told you fellows, shouldn’t be gamblin’,” Bodecker snickered, “and lady,” he winked at you as he counted his winnings, “lot less paperwork this way.”

Merle stood and staggered away to the bar as Lonny sank down until his head was on the table, he was snoring in seconds. You clasped your purse shut and checked the time on the out-of-place cuckoo clock hung above the bar. Your mama would be asleep already but she wouldn’t wake up to your usual surprise of a few extra bills in the jar.

The sheriff’s pocket jingled as he dropped the handful of coins inside and you pulled yourself up by the table. You didn’t drink when you gambled, you rarely partook when you weren’t. You pulled on your jacket and headed for the door.

“Hold up, girl,” Bodecker called after you, he still held the wrinkled bills as he came up beside you, counting them over and over, “you need a ride?”

“I can find my way home, sheriff,” you insisted as you approached the bar door. 

He stepped ahead of you and elbowed it open and held it with his back as he waited for you to pass through. You couldn’t help but brush up against his stomach as you did.

“I did tell ya ‘bout playin’ with the boys,” he let the door swing open and kept pace with your.

“I think I got your point, sheriff,” you tried to outwalk him and he caught your arm before you could clear the corner of the bar.

“Look, sweetheart,” he counted out several bills and bent them over his finger as he held them out to you, “you’re just tryna help out your ma, I get it. Her heart don’t make things easy.”

“You won, sheriff, I won’t be takin’ no scraps from you,” you waved him away.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he added another bill and grabbed your purse. You tried to yank it back as he snapped it open and dropped the money inside, “we can call it even another way.”

You squinted at him and blinked. His eyes descended devilishly to your chest and you scoffed as you got his meaning. You pulled your purse away and reached inside. You thrust the fistful of bills back towards him. He batted your hand down and turned you against the wooden planks.

“You made a bet, girl,” he pinned you with an arm across your chest, “and you will pay it how I see fit. I don’t need your pennies.”

“Take the money,” you shoved against him, “get off of me.”

“Come ‘ere,” he dragged you along the splintered wall and into the shadow of the boxy building, “you get that skirt up and that’ll be square with me.”

“I said get off,” you grunted as you pushed on his arm, “sheriff!”

“And what’ll your mama think ‘bout you hangin’ ‘round here? Don’t think her heart would take it well,” he snarled as you scratched at his leather sleeve, “specially when I serve the fine for illegal gamblin’.”

“You already took all my money, what do ya–”

“ **I really don’t care who sees but I know you do,** ” he sneered, “so you better shut up before you draw some lurkers.”

The bills fluttered to the ground as you tried to force him away with both hands. Your purse fell by your foot and bounced away. He was too strong as he kept you against the wall, his other hand tugging at your skirt as he leaned heavy against you. His weight made it hard to breathe beneath his arm.

“Sheriff–” you gasped as you continued to struggle.

“Be a lot easier if you stop.” 

His hand crawled up under your skirt and he tore you knickers down your thighs. The cotton bunched at your ankles as his hand lodged between your legs before you could push them together. He turned his arm and grabbed your throat. 

He pulled you a few inches from the wall and slammed your head back into it. Dizzy, your legs parted around his hand. He thrust his fingers up into you impatiently and you whined at the pain.

“You want someone to hear?” he hissed, “No, you keep quiet now.”

He fingered you roughly and grew frustrated as your dry cunt chafed around his fingers. He stepped on your panties and pulled them free of your feet. He lifted your leg and bent it around him as he took his hand from your cunt and undid his fly. You pressed against his chest and wriggled, your head pulsing from impact.

“You know what you can buy with that cunt, girl?” he pulled himself out of his pants and poked around blind as his other hand kept your leg in place.

“Please,” you croaked as you beat against his shoulders weakly.

“You wanna be awake for this or should I keep bashing you?” he snarled as he found your entrance, “won’t be long–” he slid inside, a slow, torturous intrusion as he leaned heavily on you, “not long at all seeing’s ya so fuckin’ tight.”

You let out a strangled cry as he began to rock against you. Your muscles tensed in revulsion and your leg hooked around him without thinking as your other leg wobbled beneath you. He kept you on your toes, nearly lifting you off the ground as he moved against you.

“S’why you shouldn’t be ‘round places like this,” he rasped against your temple and he pressed his arm against the wall beside your head, “you’re lucky it’s only me, yeah?”

You whimpered as he fucked you against the wall, your ass hitting the wood with each vicious thrust. You closed your eyes as his hot breath swept down around your throat as he nuzzled your hair. He huffed and puffed as he sped up, his groans barely muffled behind his clamped lips.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’ma cum already, girl.”

You braced yourself against the wall as he hooked his arm under your leg and pushed it up even high. He slammed into you over and over as he bent and bit into the skin visible just above your dress. He spasmed and a hot wave flooded into you.

He shuddered and his hips slowed. He rolled his head over your shoulder and slowly lifted it. He slipped out of you and dropped your leg. You leaned on the wall, ready to collapse as your cunt burned from his trespass. He wiped his dick on your skirt and zipped himself up. 

He tilted his head to crack his neck before he bent to grab your purse and collect the scattered bills. Your skirt fell back down as you felt warmth dripping down your thigh. He pushed your purse strap over your arm and folded the bills carefully. He shoved the bunch down your dress and into your brasserie. He patted your chest and smirked.

“There’s a lot of creeps out here,” he drawled, “let me give you a ride home.”

👮👮👮

**Let me know what you think.**


	12. Summer Break(down) (Lee Bodecker)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, weed, breeding/forced pregnancy.  
> This is dark!Lee Bodecker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Based on this drabble request:** **Lee + interrogation + breeding/forced pregnancy + “you think your father would still love you if he knew?”+ Reader is mayor’s daughter and get caught by Lee) smoking weed , so she is forced to give her purity to him + Reader is a sweet innocent girl that refuses Bodecker’s advances, which makes him very angry so he forcefully gets her pregnant in a fucked up revenge plot to ruin her life and leave her as the scarlet letter in town. Requested by anon and[@jaceyneedsabetterusername](https://tmblr.co/mtUVDKMh5FePW3RjFVQ03ww)**

* * *

You puffed the smoke and coughed it up in a painful cloud. Your throat burned as the acrid taste stained your tongue. You held out the burning joint to Darla and she chuckled as she watched you struggle. She took a log drag and blew rings in the air and handed it off to Mia.

“A whole year at college and you ain’t never tried it,” Darla teased, “what are ya doin’ up there?”

“Studying,” you rubbed your throat and refused another hit as your eyes watered, “you know how my daddy is.”

“Your daddy ain’t livin’ on campus, is he?” Mia trilled, “perfect little mayor’s daughter with her purity ring.”

“Shut up,” you growled, “if I got caught I’d be expelled, okay? I’m here now tryin’ it, aren’t I?”

“Ain’t ya?” Darla mocked, “is that how you talk now? So proper.”

“Christ, what’s gotten into you?” you waved away the smoke as she blew it in your face, “you miss me that much?”

“Nah,” she gave the stubby joint to Mia, “you just actin’ like you’re too good for us now.”

“How so? I’ve been nothing but nice–”

“Nice and sweet and perfect,” Darla muttered, “you running back to your dorm in the fall and I gotta wipe tables down as the eat-in.”

You were quite as her resent bit deep into you. It wasn’t like you made the decision yourself, your daddy would have skinned you if you hadn’t gone up to the all-girls academy. He held a prestigious office, he often reminded you, and you were just another merit on his record. You needed uphold his reputation as if it were your own.

Mia snorted dryly and offered you the joint again. Her face dropped as an arm reached around you, her reddened eyes glossy as the dwindling smoke was taken from her. You turned and backed away as the sheriff waved the joint in front of him and sniffed the air.

“I knew I smelled contraband,” his jaw ticked and his brow lifted as he eyed the three of you, “and you,” he pointed at you, “of all the girls in town, it had to be you?”

You looked at Darla and Mia as they blinked at the cop. Lee Boedecker was known for his cruel-streak and no-nonsense tolerance. You knew him as the pudgy, old man who tried to buy you a drink as you still wore your graduation cap. You remembered that day and the odd episode, how he scowled and stomped away, shaking your father’s hand on the way out of the diner.

“All this shit you’re bringin’ down from the city, huh?” he flicked the joint to the ground and blotted it out with his sole.

“N-no, I–” you looked back and forth between Mia and Darla.

“You two,” he pointed at them, “you go on.”

“What?” Mia quivered, “but–”

“You let me deal with her,” he waved her off as he gripped his gun belt, “just lookin’ out for the mayor’s daughter.”

The other girls peeked at you and slowly backed away. You watched them fearfully and as they disappeared around the front of the building, you turned back to the sheriff. He tutted as he shook his head and came closer.

“Won’t that be a scene? Tellin’ your daddy what I found you doin’,” he snickered.

“I… I wasn’t, I only–”

“I don’t care what you was only doin’,” he snorted, “I don’t… have to tell him but you’re gonna have to convince me not to.”

You blinked at him and frowned. You weren’t sure of his meaning and you surely didn’t want to find out. You backed away and he caught your arm.

“Now where’d you get that stuff?” he looked down at the crushed joint.

“It’s not mine,” you quavered, “I swear–”

“No?” he swung you against the wall and knocked the air out of you, “you sure you don’t know, now?”

You shook your head fearfully. You wouldn’t say it Darla who rolled it and lit it but you weren’t going to sell yourself down the river either. He slammed his hand above your shoulder and rested his other on his pistol as he loomed over you.

“Which one was it then? Pretty little college girl…” he purred, “a good girl, tell me which one of ‘em had it.”

You shook your head and pressed yourself to the wall, “I don’t know. Please, sheriff–”

“Please, sheriff,” he unholstered his gun and raised the muzzle. He steadied it against your chin and pushed your head up, “it was just a drink, sweetheart.”

“Sheriff, I–”

“You think you too good for me ‘cause your daddy,” he dragged the gun down your chest and along your stomach, “‘cause he sendin’ you away to read books?”

“No, no, what are you–”

He shushed you as he pushed the gun lower and hooked it under your skirt. He shoved his hand under your skirt and poked your vee with the metal nosebarrel

“I’d hate to ruin ya like that,” he sneered, “but I s’pose up at that fancy college, you got some good use.”

You shook your head and trembled as tears pricked and your nose tingled. He chuckled and leaned in to kiss your forehead. He wiggled the pistol between your thighs.

“No? You think your little act works on me?”

“I– sheriff, please, I never–”

“Hmmm,” he hummed and inhaled the scent of your hair, “you ain’t no good girl.”

You sniffed as the tears rolled down your cheeks, your heart beating wildly as you waited for him to pull the trigger. He prodded more firmly and lowered his voice.

“How about I drive you back to your daddy’s and discuss this with him?”

Your eyes rounded as his blue ones caught them with a vicious gleam. You sobbed and shivered.

“If– If you gotta–”

“Come on,” he pulled his gun away and yanked you off the wall.

He marched you down the alley and pushed you into his cruiser. He slammed the door and dropped into the front seat. He leaned to one side as he holstered his gun and clapped his hand over the wheel. He looked at you in the mirror.

“You sure you don’t wanna tell me the truth?” he asked.

“I did–”

“No,” he interrupted you, “you shut up if you ain’t gonna tell me straight.”

He started the car and rolled down the street. You shrunk into the seat afraid that someone might spot you through the window. He steered through the town and headed up the hill to your daddy’s house. You watched the trees around you as his thick breaths were laced with heated mutters.

He pulled off halfway up and idled between a pair of elms, “you can still keep my mouth shut, sweetheart.” You blinked at the mirror and he turned and stretched his arm over the back of the seat. He grinned at you and licked his lips. “What d’ya think your daddy will do?”

You hung your head. Your daddy would be so mad he’d lock you up for the rest of the summer, or worse, pull out his old switch. Your lip quivered and you sniffed as you wiped your cheeks with your cuffs.

“You want me to tell him?” Lee asked.

You peered up through your lashes at him and shook your head. He nodded and killed the engine. The car jolted as he got out and slammed his door. He opened the back and bent to look in on your with his hand on the roof.

“Right then, on your back,” he ordered.

“What–”

“If you don’t want me to tell him, you gotta keep me quiet, now lay down, sweetheart,” he reached to his belt and unbuckled it with one hand, “it’ll be quick, promise, then you can go back to bein’ a good girl.”

“Sheriff,” you kicked yourself across the seat and lunged for the other door.

He caught your ankle and dragged you back. He flipped you onto your back and crawled over you, his weight suffocating as he posted his knees between your legs.

“That’s the thing, you can keep me quiet or I can make you scream and tell your daddy anyway,” he warned as he fought with your flailing hands, “it all goes the same way, got it?”

You stilled and stared up at him. It was as if he’d slapped you. Your eyes overflowed and he brought his hand up to trace the streaks with his thumb.

“You’re so sweet,” he ran his hand down to your dress and groped your through the fabric, “mmm, so sweet.”

You tensed as he pushed his hand between your bodies and lifted himself as he pressed his fingers to your cunt. He tugged your skirt up impatiently and rubbed along the front of your underwear. You turned your head and swallowed a sob.

“I woulda been nice, taken you out proper,” he pushed his fingers under the cotton and you gasped as he caressed your folds, “you coulda been a sheriff’s wife, you coulda made your daddy proud.”

He poked his fingers inside you so roughly you whimpered. He pulled them in and out even as your body resisted. He sank to his knuckles and squeezed until you cried out.

“Now you can take my bastard home to him,” he snarled and tore his hand out of your knickers.

He unzipped his pants and wriggled as he shimmied them down. Still trapped beneath his weight, you stared at the back of the leather seat as your tears hovered on your lashes. He grunted as he ripped your panties down to your knees. He stretched the cotton between your legs as he bent them and rested on the fabric.

Bent beneath him, you closed your eyes as he felt around your cunt. He pushed his knees against your ass and lined up with your entrance. You clenched as he prodded and struggled to get his tip inside of you. He swore and leaned heavily on the elbow planted beside your head.

“Now, don’t make this harder than–” He bucked into you so hard you hollered. He smothered it with his hand and held himself deep inside of you, “you weren’t lyin’ about the boys, were you?”

You squeezed your eyes tight and he wiggled until you squirmed. He pulled back and rammed back into you roughly, groaning as he did. He waited and did it again, each thrust reverberated up your spine.

“ **You think your father would still love you if he knew?** ” he rasped, “huh, what you think everyone will say? That whore went up to the city and got a child on her.”

“P-p-please,” you whispered as you pushed on his chest, “it… hurts.”

“Oh, it gon’ hurt, sweetheart,” he growled, “but it didn’t have to.” He hissed as he kept his hips moving, “you made it this way.”

“I can’t– don’t– I can’t have a ba–”

“You gonna have my baby,” he sneered and hooked his arm under you, “you gonna carry me with you the rest of your life,” the car shook with his movement, “it was only a drink, sweetheart… one drink.”

👮👮👮

**Let me know what you think.**


	13. All Together Now (Stucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, violence, blood, breeding/forced pregnancy  
> This is dark!Stucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Based on this drabble request:** **Stucky + “You take him so well, just not as good as you take me.” + breeding/forced pregnancy + Steve and Bucky realize they both have their eye on the same girl. They decide to work together to get what they want.[@river-soul](https://tmblr.co/meGiZUdCnU9mQQJGj82RrpQ)**

* * *

“It’s just Bucky,” Steve waved for you to get your hand off your gun.

“What’s he doing here?” you left the pistol on the metal table and went back to the pot of canned soup.

You stirred the pot and looked around at the small safehouse as you heard the car door and the ensuing steps. You tapped the excess broth from the metal and turned back to cross your arms as you leaned on the counter.

“He does realise we’re hiding out here?”

“I asked him to come and have a look at these,” Steve jabbed his finger towards the manila file as he peeked out between the slats across the window.

“Wha– I already translated them for you,” you huffed, “and we don’t have enough soup for him.”

“He knows Hydra better than anyone, he can tell us what the symbols mean,” Steve took a deep breath.

“We could have waited and got them back to intel in New York–”

The deadbolt turned and you shut up as Steve pulled the door open. You turned back to the stove and watched the soup. You had no issue with Bucky really but the last time you saw him, he’d confessed things to you that made it hard to look at him. And he hadn’t reacted well when you didn’t reciprocate.

“There,” you listened to the two men move around, noting that you didn’t even get a hey from the third agent, “thanks for coming, Buck.”

“Mhmm,” you heard the chair groan tellingly and you turned off the burner. 

You took out two metals bowls with a clink and poured the beefy stew into them. You added a spoon to each and turned to hand one off to Steve as he sat on the only other chair. You stood by the counter and slurped yours.

“It’s a map,” Bucky said, “the star, the five points,” he took out his phone and flipped through. He leaned forward and pointed to five different cities, “up in Siberia, Hydra checkpoints.”

“Shit,” Steve sat back as he scooped up his soup, “well, we should’ve caught that.”

“How could you, it’s not exactly marked on Google,” Bucky closed the folder and placed his phone on top of it, “how much longer you here?”

“Couple days at most,” Steve answered and you felt entirely ignored in the two way conversation.

You gulped down your food straight from the brim and rinsed your bowl. You wiped off your hands and checked the time on your watch. You took your gun and cleared the chamber.

“Early morning,” you said, “I’m gonna hit the hay, let you guys catch up.”

“Alright,” Steve set his bowl down on the small square table beside him.

“Night,” Bucky said, his first word to you, “sweet dreams.” His voice trailed after you and you felt both watching you as you pushed into the bedroom. You didn’t look back as the door clicked behind you.

You and Steve settled in easy to the meagre safehouse. There were missions you slept on concrete or in dirt so the dusty old mattress you shared wasn’t anything to gripe about. You changed into your plain grey sweats and your military issued matching tee. 

You dropped down onto the mattress and listened to the drone of the male tones through the wall. You stretched and rolled onto your side and closed your eyes. Hopefully he sent Bucky away by morning.

⭐

You grumbled and rolled over as the other side of the mattress shifted. You hid your face in the pillow as you hugged it with one arm. You tried to ignore Steve as he settled onto the flattened springs. You needed whatever rest you could force out of the short nights.

You went rigid as you felt his warmth against your back and his arm wrapped around your middle. You grabbed his wrist and froze. The vibranium was shockingly cool against your palm. Your eyes shot open as you were pulled flush against Bucky and Steve lowered himself on your other side.

“What the fuck are you doin–”

The vibranium fingers smothered your voice and you grunted in surprise at Steve’s nakedness. Your hand grazed against Bucky’s nude thigh and your heart began to pound. You reached for Bucky’s wrist again and Steve snatched away your arm and slung it over his shoulder.

You mumbled into the hand across your mouth and tried to push away from Bucky. You only served to brush his prodding excitement with your ass as your other hand beat against Steve’s chest. You tried to shake your head as the super soldier in front of you tugged at your loose pants.

You threw your head back and Bucky grunted and retracted his hand as you smashed your skull into his nose. You drew your hand from over Steve’s shoulder and punched him across the jaw. You pushed yourself up and tripped as Steve kept hold of the sweats and you fell at the foot of the bed.

You were tugged back as Bucky swore and flipped over as you reached for the end of the mattress. Steve peeled away your pants and you kicked out at him as the other soldier cradled his bloody nose. He spat a glob of saliva and blood onto the floor and got to his knees to help Steve wrangle you in.

They pinned your arms above your head as you kept kicking and flailing, snarling at them.

“What the fuck? Let me go?” you gritted.

“It didn’t have to be like this,” Bucky growled and sniffed as the blood trickled from his nostril, “I was nice and patient.”

“Steve,” you hissed at the blond, “you’re really gonna let him do this?”

“Him?” Steve’s jaw ticked, “Us.”

“What–” you grunted and fought harder, bringing a knee up far enough to catch Bucky’s ribs.

Both soldiers turned to grab your thighs and held you flat to the bed, gripping both wrist and legs. They looked at each other over your body and shared a conspiratorial moment.

“We should have sedated her,” Steve said.

“No, I want her to feel it when I fill her up,” Bucky scowled, “you got ties?”

Steve stared back a moment then nodded. They flipped you over and Bucky quickly straddled you as he twisted your arms back and held them to the middle of your back. Steve got up and disappeared through the open door.

“Why are you doing this?” you huffed.

“Why’d you lead me on?” Bucky snarled.

“I didn’t–”

“You didn’t,” he scoffed, “no you just flirted with me then laughed in my face.”

“That’s not what happened,” you wriggled and he squeezed you between his thick thighs.

“I wanted more than this but… you’re good stock, strong,” he fingers tightened painfully on your wrists, “all the genetic markers for a successful term.”

“What–”

“Shut up,” he stretched his fingers around both your wrists and freed a hand to pin your head down. Steve entered and you could only watch his feet as he neared. You closed your eyes as he got to his knees and Bucky helped him bind your wrists. “You got anything to gag her with?” the latter asked.

There was silence and you were lifted again and put on your back, your head between the pillows. You flung a leg up and it was caught easily. Your legs were forced down and your ankles held far apart. You opened your eyes and watched Bucky step between your legs as Steve kept your feet in place.

“Steve, don’t let him do this,” you begged, “please, whatever you’re thinking–”

Bucky dropped to his knees and his hand grasped your throat. He applied enough pressure to smother your voice.

“He’ll have his turn too,” Bucky wiped away the last of the blood from his nose with the back of his real hand then shoved it between your legs.

You gasped as he poked around impatiently. He moved closer and you felt his tip against you. Your hands throbbed as you laid atop them painfully and you whined through your tight throat. Steve’s hold on your didn’t waver as your legs tensed at Bucky’s violent intrusion.

He slammed into you so that your back arched and you pushed your shoulder down into the mattress. Your breath crackled in the air as his fingers squeezed firmer with each long thrust. The mattress shifted with his motion as he rutted into you.

He stretched his finger up your cheek and turned your head straight. He bent over you as his hips kept their pace. “Look at me,” he rasped and your eyes met his stormy one, “that’s it, I want you to look at me as I fill you up.”

He fucked you harder and panted as you gasped past his grip on your neck. Your ankles were released but you could do nothing as Bucky brought his legs back under yours and pushed them wide. He leaned most of his weight on your throat as he rammed into you.

“I want you to… remember,” he said through thick breaths, “the moment I… fill you up…” he bared his teeth and thrust frantically, “the moment you… become a mother.”

His voice fizzled and he bent to rest his forehead against yours as he came. You whimpered as his hand slipped from your throat and he slowed his hips. You tried to move your wrists as your fingers throbbed painfully.

He sighed and lifted himself off of you. He slipped out and you winced at the warmth leaking from your cunt. You couldn’t look at them as their figures moved at the edge of your vision.

You were flipped over again. Weak, your resistance was met with a sharp slap to the back of the head. You lifted to your knees and Bucky stood in front of you as Steve got behind you on the mattress, his legs between yours as he gripped your hip.

Bucky stroked his dick as he gazed down at you. He shivered with the overstimulation but barely softened as he kept on. Steve angled himself past your ass and squeezed until you tilted your hips. He slid into you and groaned as he reached his limit.

“Ah, please,” you lowered your head and Bucky caught your chin.

He shushed you and pressed his tip to your lips as Steve began to rock cautiously behind you. Bucky pushed past your lips and sank down your throat as he forced your head back. Steve’s hot breaths grew ragged as a sharp clap came with each deliberate thrust.

“You take him so well, just not as good as you take me,” Bucky purred as he glided in and out of your mouth, your spit dripping down your chin and smeared around your mouth. He grabbed your head between both hands and rubbed your cheekbones with his thumbs as he moaned in delight, “fuck, I hate to waste it on your mouth,” he rasped, “better fill her up good, Steve.”

The man behind you seemed enlivened by his name. His hand went to your neck and he felt Bucky inside of you. Steve crashed into your harder and faster, the noise of wet cunt around him added to the steady slapping of skin. Your eyes rolled back as you struggled to breath and your body struggled to adjust to the constant barrage.

You almost choked as Bucky emptied himself down your throat and coughed as he pulled out. He let you fall forward onto your face as Steve kept his rampant pace. Your cunt thrummed around him and your entire body ached as he reached his peak. He slammed you back and held you there as he came in a fit of spasms.

Steve hummed and tickled your ass as Bucky lifted your head and poked his thumb into your mouth. The soldier in front of you helped push you up as Steve sat back and you were held in his lap, completely full with him.

“Got your story straight?” Bucky asked as Steve began to move you again.

“Think so,” Steve panted and Bucky rolled your tee shirt up and hooked it behind your head. He bent and played with your chest as Steve fucked you from below.

“She went missing, right? You got that intel but she was gone. You called me to help find her,” Bucky paused and teased your nipple between his teeth, “got it?”

“Got it,” Steve leaned back and groaned as he moved you in his lap.

“Don’t…” you begged in a desperate whisper.

“We’ll take care of you,” Bucky trailed his nose between your tits, “for the baby’s sake.”

⭐⭐⭐

**Let me know what you think.**


	14. One More Favour (mob!Steve Rogers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: coercion, threats, intimidation, blood, guns.  
> This is dark!(mob)Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Based on this drabble request:**

**_Steve Rogers + “I told you to shut up and you know I don’t repeat myself.” + Mob AU + You thought after years of playing the good girl, Steve would ignore a little attitude.[@americasass81](https://tmblr.co/m7b_7YPSyEhZWbVv8y-oXKg)_ **

**_Steve Rogers + “Do it for me… keep me from pulling that trigger.” + Mob AU + A confrontation of sorts? Reader caught in somewhere bad unknowingly[@okaywitheverything](https://tmblr.co/m_hWGY-zb12ycuadZK_3TwA)_ **

* * *

The first time Steve Rogers stumbled through your door, you didn’t know what to do. His gun kept you from doing much as he directed you to your kitchen table and sat heavily, his other hand covered in blood as he grasped his side. He pointed to your scrubs with the metal barrel, but you weren’t a nurse, you were only an orderly. He didn’t care.

That night, you sewed him up silently, your hands unsteady as you fished around in your first aid kit, stained with his blood even after he left. The shadow of his pistol lingered in your mind until his next visit, just as unexpected as the first, but those that came after, were a ritual, although he kept his gun in the holster after the third.

You’d lost count of how many times he showed up. Sometimes he needed stitches, other times just something to eat or a couch to crash on. You never argued, you couldn’t really, the engraved handle of his gun kept you from much more than nodding and letting him stay.

You figured your house was one of the only safe places for the vaunted mob boss to hide out. No one was going to go sniffing around some orderly’s door, especially the old house with its peel roof and stained siding.

That night, you were asleep when he arrived. You woke up to a shadow standing over you and reached for your night side table. He caught your shoulder before you could slide open the drawer and pull out the knife. He rolled you onto your back and chuckled.

“It’s just me,” he stepped back, “I need help.”

You rubbed your eyes and stretched before you sat up. You’d worked a double and you were exhausted. You had another early morning ahead of you.

You followed him to the living room as he sat on the old couch, a used model from the seventies. The room shone with the amber light of the glass shaded lamp and he shrugged out of his jacket with a grunt. You went to the kitchen and got the metal box with the red cross on it. You returned as he peeled off his shirt, the sleeve stained red. His undershirt clung to his sweaty torso.

You sat beside him and groggily cleaned up the gash. A graze seared with gunpowder. You dabbed at it and yawned again. You looked up as you sensed him watching you. You frowned and focused on your task.

“You’re quiet,” he said as he relaxed against the cushions.

“You usually do most of the talking,” you grumbled.

“Mmm,” he hummed, “what’s wrong?”

“Tired,” you answered grumpily.

“Tired,” he repeated, “ah.”

His tone was smug and irked you as you wiped up the last of the blood. It wasn’t very deep at all. You opened a square of gauze and taped it over the cut. You tutted and packed up the kit. You stood and carried it back to the kitchen.

“You mad at me?” he asked.

“Why would I be mad at you?” you leaned in the doorway as he remained on the couch.

“You seem mad,” he said.

“I worked twelve hours and you have me bandaging you up like a toddler. You could have done that yourself.”

“Watch yourself,” he warned.

“Well…” you swallowed, knowing you walked a dangerous path, “is there anything else you need, your majesty?”

“Shut up,” he scowled as he rubbed his arm, “you don’t know who you’re talking to, girl.”

“Oh, I know, Steve Rogers,” you said, “I’m not as stupid as you think I am. Or as helpless. You can’t just keep showing up like–”

 **“I told you to shut up and you know I don’t repeat myself,”** he stood and his hand went to his holster, “I never was mean to you. Can’t say that about many people.”

He neared and you stiffened. You watched his hand on his gun and as he got closer, he let it drop. He smiled as he sidled past you into the kitchen. You turned to watch him cross to the fridge and open it. He leaned on the door and peered inside.

“I don’t have much,” you said as you stepped into the kitchen, “I think you should go now. I have to work in–”

“Since when do you tell me what to do?” he closed the fridge and spun to face you.

“I think I’ve been pretty accommodating. I’ve patched you up, fed you, let you stay here. I’m just asking you one time to go. I’m tired, I gotta work in the morning, you know, a real job.”

He was quick to unholster his gun. You took a step back as your voice tied out. He examined the barrel and slowly turned it toward you. He straightened his arm and his expression hardened.

“I’ve been pretty accommodating you. I’ve kept you alive, let you be, and what has it cost you but a little bit of bread and some bandages?” he sneered.

“Steve–”

“You know what I could take from you,” he stepped closer, “you know what I could _do_ to you?”

He pressed the muzzle to your chest and your lip quivered as you stared at him. His mouth slanted as he watched your expression fall. You exhaled slowly, as if the slightest move would earn you a bullet.

“That’s cute,” he moved the gun up to the strap of your tank top, “take it off.”

You wrinkled your brow and looked down at the pistol. You lifted your head again and met his gaze.

“Steve–”

“You can call me ‘sir’,” he growled, “think I’ve let you get too familiar, doll.”

“Don’t–”

“Shhh, you don’t tell me what to do,” he reached to slide you strap down your arm, “go on, **do it for me… keep me from pulling that trigger**.”

His hand spread across your chest and squeezed. He could feel your hard nipple through the cotton. You shivered and touched his hand softly. You begged him with your eyes but he was fixated on your body. He pushed the gun hard against your neck.

You slipped your other strap past your shoulder. You hooked your thumbs in the side of your shirt and pushed it down your torso. His eyes followed and lit up as you bunched the fabric up along the top of your shorts. The pistol glided between your tits and down your stomach. He pressed against the rumpled shirt.

“Take it all off,” he ordered, “now.”

👔👔👔

**Let me know what you think!**


	15. Anything else, Mr. Barber? (Andy Barber)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, cheating, coercion, blow job, somniphilia, abuse of power, no edit.  
> This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**_Based on these drabble requests:_ **

**_Andy Barber + somniphilia + “You’re late.” + Andy waking up the reader with sex._ **

**_Andy Barber + losing a bet + “do it or I’ll make you.” + Reader bets on something she’s confident about, and agrees (ig?) to go down on Andy if she loses. When she inevitably loses, she’s reluctant… @weirdwildsoul_ **

**_Andy Barber + “Do it or I’ll make you.” + abuse of power + Andy wants his cock sucked by his young assistant, but she’s a little reluctant._ **

**_Andy Barber + “Why are you crying?” + Somniphilia + Something where he forces himself on her and she doesn’t wake up until the end._ **

* * *

You knocked with your elbow before the voice came from the other side of the door, staunch and irritated. _Fuck, you were late again_. It wasn’t your fault, the cafe was crowded and your boss hated the vending machines river water. You let yourself in but Andy didn’t even look up as you entered.

You put the paper cup down as you greeted him, “Mr. Barber.”

“You’re late,” he kept his eyes on the folder in front of him.

“I got held up at–”

He took the cup and sniffed the brim. He scrunched his lips and sat up, his eyes meeting yours at last.

“Cream or milk?” he frowned.

“Milk, like always,” you wisped, your heart still beating from your frantic race to the office.

He took a sip and put it back heavily. He swallowed stiffly and cleared his throat.

“You sure?” he gave a fickle grimace, “tastes like cream.”

“I swear I ordered milk–”

“Just like you said yesterday you wouldn’t be late again.”

“I tried, I–”

“No more excuses,” he crossed his arms, “you’re late one more time and you owe me.”

“I’ll stay late tonight,” you offered.

“No, we’ll see,” he shifted in his chair, “if you can keep track of time, maybe we won’t have to.”

“I’m sorry–”

“You have work to catch up on,” he interrupted again and dropped his arms, he leaned back and grabbed a paper from the pile, “go on.”

You left and sighed as you closed the door behind you. You went to your desk, only a few feet from his office and took off your jacket. You really tried to be on time but Andy just didn’t seem to realise that his last minute texts for you to head down to the archives or to hit the coffee shop weren’t helping. That or he just didn’t care.

You booted your computer and fished around for a pen in your bag. Your leg jiggled as you thought about the next day, maybe if you left earlier you might avoid another slip-up.

☕

A week. A whole week and every day you were right on time. Andy couldn’t complain as you brought him his dark roast with milk and his documents in their acrid folders. It cost you some sleep and some early morning road rage, but he had nothing to gripe about as you met him with a smile.

It didn’t last. You hit a train at midtown and that threw your whole day off. Usually you missed it as the freight came at the same time every morning. The universe liked to see you fail.

Again you entered after a knock. Andy didn’t say anything as you set down his cup and you hesitated to leave as you waited for his reproach. Still nothing. You went to the door and his chaired squeaked.

“Before you leave tonight, we need to talk,” he snarled.

“Yes, Mr. Barber,” you pulled the door open.

“I need the Hanson files copied,” you heard him toss the envelope and you turned around.

“Will do,” you neared and took the manila casing.

“Collated and stapled,” he stared you down, “now go. I’m done wasting time.”

You retreated and flinched as the door clicked behind you. You pushed your head back and cringed. _Fucking train_.

☕

This time, Andy was late. It wasn’t unusual that his hearings ran long but you knew if you left, it would be worse. The elevator dinged and you watched the doors. He stepped out and bid a goodbye to whoever else was within. He didn’t even glance at you as he quieted and swept by your desk.

He snapped his fingers as he opened the door to his office and you stood. You felt like a dog, your tail between your legs as you followed.

“Close the door,” he said and you obeyed again.

He dropped his bag against his desk and sat. He rolled the chair back as he spread his legs wide and stretched his arms behind his head. He rubbed his eyes and his hands fell onto his thighs. He tilted his head and his jaw twitched as you faced him nervously.

“How many times do we have this conversation?”

“Please, there was a train–”

“Always something. The whole world is against you,” he scowled. “Well, I’m done with warnings. You were late and you owe me.”

“Mr. Barber–”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been thinking about it all day, how to settle this all,” his lips curved slightly, “we had a deal. You’re late, you pay.”

You were silent and slightly confused. You gulped and his fingers tapped on his pants. You winced as suddenly he gripped his belt buckle and unhooked it.

“Mr–”

“Get over here,” he said.

“Wha–”

“We’re done talking, so get over here and show me you want this job,” he sneered, “because it really doesn’t seem like you do.”

“No, I– you can’t–”

“Do it or I’ll make you,” he shifted as he reached down his dress pants and pushed down his pale blue boxers.

“Mr.–”

“You make me real tired of repeating myself and if I have to again, this conversation and your time here is over,” his eyes bore into you and you wavered on your feet.

You took a careful step, waiting for him to stop you, waiting for him to tell you he was kidding. He didn’t and you took another and another until you were behind his desk. He turned his chair to face you and stroked himself above his open fly. Your lips parted as you couldn’t help but stare.

“I don’t have to tell you how to suck it, do I?” he taunted.

You inhaled and grabbed the desk as you got to your knees. He kept playing with himself as he wheeled closer. He angled his dick forward and tapped your lips as you bent over him. You let out your breath and opened your mouth. You wetted the tip with your tongue before you stretched your lips around it.

His hand fell from his dick and went to the back of your head. He urged you down and groaned as he felt the resistance at the back of your throat. You choked as he forced himself deeper and you breathed through your nose. His other hand went to your shoulder as he guided your motion, slowly at first.

The sloppy noise of your mouth filled the office and you gripped the top of his pants as you struggled to keep going. Your eyes watered and the droplets hovered along your lashes. He moved you fast and moaned as his fingertips swirled over your scalp.

“That’s it,” he said, “knew you must be good for something.”

You murmured around his dick and he hissed. Your throat constricted around him as you gagged and he shoved your head down over and over.

“Don’t make a mess now,” he purred.

He pulled you back and slammed you down all at once. He held you there and rolled his hips as he jerked and came down your throat. You let out a pathetic sputter and gasped as you gulped down his salty cum. Your throat milked his dick and he sighed as he eased out of your mouth.

You fell back and caught yourself on your hands. He rubbed his thighs and stared down at his wet cock, “whew, well, let’s hope you’re late again tomorrow.”

☕

You weren’t late again but that only seemed to make Andy’s temper worse. Even as you arrived before him, he seemed irked by your very existence. He got his coffee, his files, and anything else he could think to demand. You got your peace even if it wasn’t entirely that.

You were tired all the time. You made double sure to be at the office a full hour before your start and you even stayed late, just in case he wanted to punish you for leaving without his say so.

Several weeks passed but things didn’t get better, especially as each time you walked into his office, you felt him in your throat, heard his dark moans. 

That day was no different as you waited for him and his black jacket flapped against you as he brushed past you without so much as a good morning. You turned and followed him into his office and put his coffee down. He shook his head and sat.

He took a drink and grimaced. “Cold,” he muttered.

“Sorry, Mr. Barber, I–”

“Go,” he waved you off.

You swallowed your voice and went. You sat at your desk and heard a sudden splat and the hollow clatter of the coffee cup. Was he mad at you? About what? You were early everyday, you got him everything he asked for, you did your job, you lived at work… what more could he want?

☕

When his assistant wasn’t late the next day, Andy was smug. He’d taught her her place and gotten off in the process.

At first, he’d nearly slapped himself for the idea. He knew it was wrong but he was tired of her being late, tired of being unhappy about everything in his life. Laurie barely looked at him as she brought her work home, Jacob was too busy with his friends to need his dad, and this woman couldn’t even bring him his coffee on time.

It was a simple solution to two problems. It eased both his stress over his errant employee and the neglect of his marriage. It didn’t last, but she wasn’t late again. Even after a week, even after two, then three. His frustration returned and so did his need.

He couldn’t look at her. Everytime he did, he saw her on her knees, head bobbing over his lap, and heard those delightful noises. She made him want it again but he didn’t know how to get her again. It was easy to justify it with her missteps but when she behaved, it made him feel rotten.

That, however, did not keep him from getting hard whenever she called him Mr. Barber or her eye lingered on him a little too long.

He didn’t know what to do, so that day, he stayed late at the courthouse. He called the office and told her to go, otherwise she would wait for him. If anything, his lesson had been effective in teaching her the importance of punctuality.

But even as he drove home, he kept thinking of her. He stopped at the corner of his street as the streetlights turned on and stared down at the dark shape of Laurie’s car. He took out his phone and dialed.

“Andy,” Laurie answered.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late, things… I’m just all tied up. I’ll be a while,” he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against his knuckles as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Fine,” she answered curtly, “see you in the morning?”

“Uh huh,” he sat up, they both knew it was an empty promise.

He headed back to the office. He searched through the old filing cabinet and pulled out the resume; hers. He read the address at the top. He hoped she hadn’t moved since then. He keyed it into his phone and got out the doors right before the cleaners locked up.

He drove to her building and sat outside. He watched the front and as less people came, he knew he had to act. He reached behind his seat and grabbed the empty paper bag from his lunch. He puffed it up and took off his suit jacket. He went to his trunk and took out the hoodie he kept for emergencies.

He ran up the steps of the building as a woman unlocked the door. He waved to her and called out, “hey,” she turned back as the door buzzed and she opened it, “you don’t mind holding that? I’ve been waiting for an answer for twenty minutes and… he waved the bag, “it’s getting cold.

“Oh, whatever,” she let him grab the door and he smiled, enlivened by his own act.

“Thanks,” he followed and watched her disappear onto the elevators.

He repeated the number in his head, 310, 310, 310…

He took the stairs up to the third floor and left the bag against a railing. He stepped into the hall and counted the doors to hers. He listened through the wood, he could hear her television. He tried the handle but it didn’t budge.

He exhaled and reached into his pocket for his keys. He still had the pocket knife from the days when Jacob was in the scouts. He remembered the trick his dad had taught him, one of many he couldn’t forget. He unfolded the nail file and jammed it in the slot.

He wiggled and the door opened as the handle almost cracked in his grip. He peeked around and pushed inside. He expected her to gasp, maybe even to scream, but she didn’t even sit up.

The deadbolt was loose, broken from his intrusion. He put the chain in place instead and approached the back of the couch. Again he braced himself for her shock. She was asleep. The coffee table was littered with a styrofoam container, a wine glass, and a half empty bottle.

He stopped and stared down at her. He tucked away the knife and took off the hoodie. He paced, hoping she’d wake up and scare him out of what he was thinking off. He had come this far, hadn’t he? He couldn’t stop now. He wouldn’t.

He unbuttoned his shirt and as he got to the last, he paused. He should go home but what was there but a silent and sleepless night beside his wife. He folded the shirt over the chair and took off his leather shoes. He rolled off his socks and stood straight. He unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down with his boxers.

He was hard and hurting. He went to the couch and sidled between it and the coffee table. He grabbed the wine bottle and swigged. For courage. His nerves were jittering as he looked down at her dark blue tee. It was longer and reached halfway down her thighs. He only ever saw her in her blouses and her skirts, a bit clueless but always put together.

He touched her leg lightly and cautiously bent it. She breathed loudly but didn’t rouse. He straightened her leg and reached under her shirt. He tugged the panties down and untangled them from her feet, watching her face with each move.

He moved her leg over the edge of the couch and got on his knees beside the other. He tickled along the hem of her shirt and bent over her, holding himself up on the arm as he stroked his dick. She was going to wake up.

He didn’t care, he needed to fuck her. He pushed against her and slid his dick back until he found her entrance. He watched himself as he thrust into her in a single motion. Her body jolted and she grumbled. He smelled the wine on her breath but she stayed asleep.

He rocked his hips and hummed at the sensation of her walls around him. He dipped into her over and over, a smooth rhythm as it got easier with each tilt of his hip. He focused on his dick gliding in and out of her as he grasped the collar of her tee in his hand.

He sped up as he felt the ecstasy bubbling inside of him. His flesh slapped against her loudly and her leg dangled against his thigh. He closed his eyes and pushed his head back as he let out a long groan. So close, so close, and all he could focus on was his climax, even as he heard her surprised voice and felt her hands bounce of his chest.

“Andy!” she cried out.

He crashed into her and she shoved against him. Her legs bent around him and she wriggled helplessly. She sobbed and he bucked one last time as he came. He spilled into her as her walls squeezed him.

“Call me Mr. Barber,” he purred as he held himself completely inside of her.

He opened his eyes as he heard her sob. He looked down and stroked her cheek. She turned her head away from him and smacked away his hand.

“Why are you crying?” he asked and pushed against her until she whimpered.

☕☕☕

**Please leave some feedback if you enjoyed.**


	16. New Duties (Bucky Barnes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, cheating, fuck machine, toys, tied up.  
> This is dark!Bucky Barnes and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**_Based on these drabble requests:_ **

**_Bucky Barnes + “If you think I feel bad for you, you’re more pathetic than I thought.” + Maid AU + Bucky is rich and married too, but his wife is never in the house so he decide have fun with the naive maid._ **

**_Bucky Barnes + “You really think this is over?” + Fuck machine + honestly just the reader being tied up and left with a fuck machine and some overstimulation._ **

**_Both requested by anons._ **

* * *

The large house was often empty when you went there. You had a key on a tag and the alarm code written on it. You showed up in your black pants and matching shirt and let yourself in as you always did. You tied on your apron and looked around as you went over the work in your head. 

It was hard not to be envious of the grandiose abode. Hard not to feel bitter at all the money spent on the place and yet it seemed the resident never enjoyed it. They hired a maid, you, to clean the table they never ate at and make the bed which was the only lived-in part of the place.

You started on the lower floor as usual. Living room, dining room, kitchen, the office, the foyer, and the parlor dedicated to a carved pool table and shelves of expensive sculptures. You climbed the stairs and set off down the hall of unused rooms. There wasn’t much more to do than dust and check that the sheets didn’t smell musty.

As you approached the master bedroom, you stopped short as the door opened and you were met by one of the elusive owners of the mansion. You saw Bucky Barnes more than his wife but your run-ins were still rare. And you’d never seen him like this. You were embarrassed and off-centre as you were surprised to find him there.

He wore only a pair of silky pajama bottoms and his hair was amess, sticking out at all angles. His muscles moved under his skin as he rubbed his eyes and smiled at you. His voice was thick with drowsiness and he cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he said, “thought I heard someone.”

“I didn’t know you were here, sir,” you glanced around. It was late for him to be sleeping still.

“I took the red-eye home,” he shrugged, “don’t worry about me. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, you didn’t,” you chuckled nervously, “I can come back when–”

“You sure?” he batted away the last of his tiredness with his lashes and leaned on the doorframe, “you almost jumped out of your shoes.”

“Uh, yeah,” you assured him and started to turn back.

“It’s fine, I’m up now,” he stopped you, “I’m gonna have a coffee…” he caught up to you and brushed by you, facing you as he blocked your path, “bedroom is all yours.”

You fidgeted as his eyes flicked away from your face for just and instant but you didn’t think much of it as the apron hid made your figure lumpy and vague. You nodded and gave another yes, sir. He watched you until you spun back and headed for the bedroom. You felt his gaze until you slipped inside and let out your breath at the rumpled blankets. 

You heard him descend the stairs and set down your bucket of supplies. You went to the bed and fixed his side of it. You could smell his sweat on the sheets still. Then you began to wipe down the edges of the tables and inspected for any inch of imperfection.

“Looks good in here,” his voice spooked you again. Bucky stepped inside and set his tall coffee mug on the polished table beside the door. “I’m glad I caught you, I did have a special request.”

“Oh?” you stilled the cloth and twisted it in your grip. You watched his metal arm as he he rubbed his middle finger with his thumb.

“Here,” he crossed the room and waved you over, “it’s a bit of a secret but… I haven’t had the time to take care of it myself.”

You watched as he went to the bookshelf on the far wall and he reached behind the gilded globe. He spun it slightly but you could see what exactly he was doing. There was a shift and the shelf lurched forward. He carefully pushed it over until the edge met the corner and a small doorway appeared.

Your eyes rounded in confusion and he chuckled as he looked over his shoulder, “our little secret,” he said, “I figured since you’re here…”

“I… yes, sir,” you neared as he waited, his hand on the shelf, and as you stepped by him, he quickly followed, so close you could feel his body heat.

You stopped short as he flipped on the light. A red haze cast over the hidden room. You were shocked, almost laughing in disbelief as your brain spun to process what you were seeing; leather cuffs hung from the wall on one side and a leather bench sat center with similar bounds, there was even a sex swing dangling from the ceiling. You never expected that but really, you tried not to think about your clients intimate habits.

The shelf shifted behind you and the room grew dimmer, only the scarlet shadows of the tinted bulb remained. You turned back to Bucky.

“My stuff,” you pointed to the wall behind him. There was no visible mechanism and that made you nervous.

“Oh, well, you see, I haven’t had a chance to use any of this,” he shrugged and stepped closer. You inch backwards and dropped the cloth as his hands settled on your upper arms, “Ilona’s never here, I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“Mr. Barnes,” you winced as his vibranium hand squeezed, “I should get back to my–”

“The house is spotless. I only pay you because my wife can’t be bothered to lift a finger herself or even be around,” he said.

“Please, I should go,” you gulped, “I think you, uh, you…”

“Fine, go,” he moved out of your way and smirked at the wall, “if you want to, go.”

You looked between him and the smooth wall. You neared it and shoved on it. It didn’t move. You felt all along it, searching for anything that might trigger a response. There was nothing there.

“Can you–” you began to ask but stopped as he pressed himself to your back.

He tugged at the knot of your apron and it fell loose. His hands crawled up your back and he lifted the strap over your head. He grabbed your shoulder and turned you to face him.

“Thought you were going,” he taunted.

“Let me out,” you tremored.

“I said go, so…” he gestured to the wall.

“I can’t–”

He snickered and pulled you with him as he walked backwards. “It’s just a little fun,” he purred, “for both of us.”

“No, I– you’re married–”

“My wife, if you can call her that, hasn’t touched me in a year, probably more,” he pulled at the hem of your shirt, “so this is as much her decision as mine.”

“No, Mr. Barnes, I–”

“Listen,” he grabbed your jaw and loomed over you, “you can be a good little maid and do what you’re told or I can report you to the agency for stealing.”

“What, I never–”

“Maybe a few of Ilona’s necklaces go missing or a few bills out of my wallet,” he growled, “we’ll see who they believe.”

“Please–”

“It’s time you start earning that tip,” he turned and thrust you towards the low bench, “now get undressed and lay down on your stomach.”

“Mr–”

“I have a gag. I have several if you want to choose,” he warned, “even if I’d rather hear that sweet voice calling my name.”

“Why are you–”

“I won’t tell you again,” he barked as he crossed his arms and paced. 

You noticed how the front of his pants tented and you slowly neared the bench. It was all so jarring, you didn’t know what else to do but obey. You couldn’t leave and you were certain if you tried, he would lose all patience. You peeked over as his metal fist tightened and a chill went through you.

You pulled off your shirt and kept your eyes down. You rolled down your pants and took your time untying your sneakers. You hesitated to strip off your underwear but a gristly breath made you wince and you added them to the pile of clothes. 

You were cold but your flesh burned as you sensed his close attention to your every move. You got down on the bench, the leather icy against your chest, and stared at the floor. Bucky walked around behind you and framed your ass with his hands as he stood over you. He pushed your thighs apart until your legs bent over the side of the bench and the cool air tickled your cunt.

“Hmmm,” he mused as he flicked his finger along your folds, “I can’t decide what I want first.”

An overwhelming wave of panic shook you and you tried to push yourself up. His hand slapped down on the middle of your back and he held you down. He tutted and reached down to slip your wrist into a leather cuff and tightened it until you whined. He ignored your struggles as he did the same to your other arm and your ankles. You straddled the bench as he pushed himself up and groped your ass again.

“Why are you making this hard?” he asked, “you’re already spread for me.”

“Please…”

He sighed and you heard his bare feet on the floor as he marched away from you. He came back around you and knelt to force the ball gag into your mouth and buckled it behind your head. Your eyes glistened as you watched him desperately and breathed heavy through your nose.

“We have a lot to do,” he touched your chin, “you need the proper training.”

You tried to talk past the gag but it only came out as muffled gibberish and your saliva soaked the gag. 

“If you think I feel bad for you, you’re more pathetic than I thought,” he chuckled and stood, rubbing the front of his pants, “guess you’ll have to wait for it.”

He left your eye line again, even as you craned your neck around. He was quick to huff and stomp back to your. He took the collar that hung from the front of the bench and secured it around your neck so you could stare at your impossible escape.

You heard something rolling behind you and metal fasteners being loosened then tightened. His fingers scared you as he touched your cunt and felt around for your clit. He teased you until you tilted your pelvis in response. You moaned around the gag as your thighs quivered. Despite your fear, it felt wonderful.

He played with you until you were wet and then you heard the same wheels. You felt a prod at your entrance, a hard silicone tip slowly slid into you until you were full. You gasped and choked as he pulled away his hand entirely. You heard a soft click then a whir and the dildo began to move, your cunt sucking at it loudly as you grew wet around it. He reached under you and a new buzz began as he placed a vibrator against your bud.

He rounded you again, his pants were gone and his hand glied up and down his dick. He watched you with fiery eyes as you tried to hold back. The flames licked from your core and crawled along your thighs and back. You shuddered and your eyes rolled back as your voice droned sloppily as the gag made you drool.

You came in defeat and hung your head. You gasped and gulped for air and your entire body tensed and released, but he didn’t stop it. The vibe kept buzzing on your clit and he only turned the machine up so that it fucked you harder and faster. You wined and rolled your head back and forth.

Another orgasm strangled you and your muscles ached from the tension as it snapped again. You lost count as the red light glared through your eyelids and a sheen of sweat coated your body. Breathless and battered, you could only twitched as you were rocked by climax after climax.

And then it all stopped. The machine shut off and the dildo was slid out of you, your thighs sticky and sore. The vibrator stilled and slipped from under you and you groaned. There was a moment of peace as your heart slowed and then a slap across your ass made you yipe.

“You really think this is over?” Bucky asked as he got behind you and bent over you. His tip pressed against your entrance and his hot breath bristled against your scalp, “I’ve only just begun.”

🧹🧹🧹

**Please leave some feedback if you enjoyed.**


	17. What a Man Wants (Lee Bodecker)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon sexual acts, cheating(ish), pets, dry humping  
> This is dark!Lee Bodecker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**_Based on these drabble requests:_ **

**_Lee Bodecker + “No, not there, in my lap.” + Training/discipline + Lee is the mayor’s best friend, so when his daughter is getting married he decides that Lee is the one to give the talk of bees and flowers to his innocent daughter, but Lee not only teaches her with words, he teaches her with facts and she is so innocent that she believes everything_ **

* * *

You sat at the table, browsing through the scrapbook of ideas your mother had pasted together since you were just a girl. Her and your father had gone into town for a long-awaited date night and you were left at home to continue stressing over swatches.

You didn’t hear the engine or the front door. You only looked up and saw the familiar face, smiling awkwardly as the sheriff watched you from the kitchen doorway. He had a habit of letting himself in. Your father always told him to do so and your mother never said much on. You closed the book slowly and covered it with your arm.

“My parents are out for the night, sheriff,” you said.

“That’s all right for me,” Sheriff Bodecker said as he sat in the chair across from you, his eyes on the scrapbook, “I heard you was gettin’ married.”

He reached over and pulled on the book until it slipped from under your arm. He turned it to face him and you watched in curious confusion as he turned the stiff pages and looked over them. He tilted his head and gave a small smirk, “lilies,” he said, “lilies go well with a girl like you.”

You blinked and nodded, “mama wants tulips,” you shrugged, “you know, they’re gonna be out real late.”

“I can’t sit and talk with you?” he asked.

“Well, sure, but… we haven’t much to talk about,” you giggled nervously.

“Oh no?” he closed the book and shoved it aside, “this boy, Charlie, I seen him around. A nice kid… quiet.”

“He’s sweet,” you said.

“Not as sweet as you, I think,” he leaned back and his hand moved along his thigh, “you picking out lace and petals, what about all that other stuff you gotta think about?”

“What d’you mean, sheriff?” You frowned.

“Ah, you know, when the meal is over and it’s just the two of yas. You…” he stopped and considered his words, his eyes set on you, “a girl like you, you probably don’t even know what to do.”

“I… uh, well, oh, Charlie would, uh…” you fidgeted, “why are we talkin’ about this?”

“I just think you should know. Me and the old lady, well she was stiff as a board that first night and… it never got better, you know, because no one talked to her about her,” he rolled his tongue along his lip, “no one told her it was natural, ya see?”

“Natural, I… I…”

“You ain’t tell me I’m wrong,” he said nonchalantly, “so, I figure it can’t hurt to bring it up. You don’t wanna be laying there like some little girl, you wanna be a woman for your husband, don’t ya?”

“I… I can ask my mama ‘bout all that,” you looked down, “you really don’t–”

“Come here,” he cut in, “your mama won’t tell you all that. She’s a fine lady but she’s just as rigid as the rest of ‘em.”

“Sheriff, you really shouldn’t–”

“I ain’t gon’ hurt ya, we just talkin’, so come on,” he waved you across the table, “you gotta learn to be close to a man.”

“I–” you stared at him then glanced to the door behind him. 

You could try to tell him to go, but he didn’t seem to get the hint. And if you went too far, he’d report back to your pa, and you knew your father hated when you got smart with the sheriff. You stood and rounded the table slowly, you stood beside him and waited, but for what you weren’t sure.

“No, not there, in my lap,” he took your hand and pushed his chair back. He guided you between his legs and pulled you down. You gasped and grabbed the table to keep from falling off him, “see, you so soft,” he touched your hips, “lots for a man to hold onto.”

“Sheriff,” you caught his hands, “this isn’t right, you can’t–”

“You don’t learn and Charlie’s gon’ be a no good husband. You know what men do when they’re wives can’t please ‘em?” he tutted, “they go somewhere else.”

“Charlie wouldn’t–”

“You think he won’t if you crying as he’s tryna fuck you?” he said crassly, “ain’t no man want a sobbing mess beneath him.”

He moved his hands from beneath yours and batted you away as you tried to stop him again. His stomach pressed to your back and he growled against your neck. He cupped your tits through your blouse and squeezed.

“You’re built well,” he purred, “but you feel that, you get all uppity when I touch ya.”

“You can’t–”

“I’m tryna teach ya what ya need ya know. You ain’t wanna know how many husbands I catch down with them whores on the streets. You want Charlie to be one of ‘em?” He snipped, “so you let me show ya.” He squeezed and you whimpered, “now, just relax.”

He kneaded your tits and you reached down to brace the chair but found his thighs instead. He hummed and you tried to listen, hoping if you did, he’d let you go. He took your hand from his left thigh and pushed it down between your legs. He led it up your skirt and pressed your fingers to the front of your knickers.

“You see, right here is the key to bein’ a good girl,” he said and pushed harder, moving your fingers beneath his until you felt the pressure in your core, “move just like this,” he rocked under you and you felt his bulge against your ass, “as he fuckin’ you like this. Do it like this and he won’t look nowhere else.”

The chair creaked under your weight as he kept his crotch moving against your ass and held your hand between your thighs. You let out a quiver and heard it in your breath.

“Feels good for your too, yeah?” he nuzzled your neck, “feel how hard you make a man.”

He growled against your skin and kept you moving in his lap. Your core swelled and you couldn’t figure how it was you felt so good even as your mind raced with fear and guilt. You thought of Charlie and your parents. _What if they found out?_

You felt Bodecker’s teeth graze your neck and then the grunt came sharp and loud. His arm hooked around your middle and squeezed tight as he spasmed and swore. He stilled you and his fingers curled yours and he pushed hard against your cunt. His heart pounded against your back and he leaned his head back with a whew.

“Shit, you so good girl, I came already,” he huffed, “Didn’t even get my pants off yet.”

👰🏽👰🏽👰🏽

**Please leave some feedback if you enjoyed.**


	18. Infatuation (Clark Kent)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, cheating, fingering, scary Clark.  
> This is dark!Clark Kent and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

_**Based on these drabble requests:** _

_**Clark Kent + “You can’t hide…” + maid AU + Maid overhears Clark saying some concerning things about her and tries to avoid the inevitable. Feel free to add as many dirty kinks as you like, love ;)[@lokislastlove](https://tmblr.co/mB9qzsbfVLq-ixoL9bohK_A)** _

* * *

The sponge grew cold in your hand as you stood beside the door, an inch or two between it and the frame. You hid in the corner as you listened, the shock paralysed you as you tried to process the words. It couldn’t possibly be about you. It couldn’t.

“Clark, you have to realise this is wrong!” Lois said, “it’s inappropriate, it’s unhealthy… it’s… it’s disgusting.”

“They’re just pictures,” Clark replied calmly, “it’s like buying a Playboy. You’re still my wife.”

“Playboy? You’ve been following her… you–” you heard the slap of filmy sheets and her frustrated grunt, “I’m firing her, right now.”

“You can’t do that–”

“For her own safety I will,” Lois insisted, “and then I’m leaving.”

“I pay her, you don’t get to–”

“You need help!” she shrieked, “you understand that? Help.”

“You need to leave, Lois, if that’s what you wanna do,” he said curtly, “I’ll see you out.”

You heard a high-pitched zip and the door opened. You flattened yourself to the wall, stunned that neither noticed you as Lois stormed through with a suitcase and Clark followed. They continued to argue. Your heart rate spiked and you sidled down the stairs only feet behind them as they headed for the front door.

You had to get out before you were found out. You doubted either of them realised you were still there. You went to the kitchen as you heard their voices at the front door and you packed up your bucket of supplies carefully.

 _What was Lois talking about? Pictures?_ Maybe they weren’t of you, but it was your name which called you to eavesdrop. Clark was following you, spying on you. _Why?_ You were just a maid and he was married to her. Lois, an established and beautiful reporter. A woman who could be proud, not some maid knuckle deep in other peoples’ grime.

The door slammed and you heard Lois’ car. You went to the back door, ready to slip out. You pulled it open but another barrier met you. Clark stood on the back step as if waiting for you. How had he known. You stumbled away from him as he stepped inside.

“Hey, I just finished up for the night,” you said shakily.

“You heard all that, didn’t you?” he asked, his voice so even it sank into your veins.

“Heard what?” you lied.

He chuckled and reached for the bucket. You let him take it only because you were too afraid to resist. He took it and placed it on the corner of the counter. You took another step back and looked around.

“I really should go, I have an early morning on the opposite end of town–”

“You heard,” he repeated.

“Heard… what?” you echoed breathily.

He smirked and you nearly tripped over your own feet. You turned and rushed through the kitchen and down the hall. You got to the front door and a sudden red flash had you staggering back. The white trim seared and amber bits fell burning to the carpet. 

You looked over your shoulder as you pushed away from the door. Clark’s eyes shone an inhuman red as he walked slowly but steadily towards you. You fled into the next room and ducked down as you feared another blast, foolish as you knew the couch wouldn’t stop him.

Your heart was in your ears. _Who was he? What was he?_

“You can’t hide…I can hear your pulse,” he said as his footsteps continued closer and you ran out and as good as fell through the other door that led back into the hall, “I can see you… even with these walls between us.”

You made for the door again and he stepped back out in front of you. You collided with the wall of muscle and his hands settled on your arms. His eyes had returned to their usual blue but his pupils were dilated and endless.

“You’re…” you gasped, “you’re supposed to be a good guy.”

The realisation of who he was, the connection of the dots; his physique, his eyes, the red beam, the fact that Lois had the exclusive on all of Superman’s greatest deeds. She knew too and she must know she couldn’t stop him.

“I am a good guy. You think I want to hurt you?” he guided you back and angled you until your heel met the bottom stair. You shook and grabbed his wrists as his large hands went to your neck.

“I don’t know what you want,” you tumbled back as he tried to force you up, “but I want to go home.”

He caught you and pulled you back to him. He had you over his shoulder in an instant and his ascent hostled you with each step. You beat on his back and scratched the wall.

“Clark, what are you–”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he pet your thigh, “I won’t hurt you.”

“Put me down, please,” you cried as he got to the top and turned down the hall, “please.”

You tore a framed photo from the wall and it clattered behind him. He kept on as if he didn’t even notice and entered the bedroom. He kicked the door shut and tossed you down on the bed you’d made only an hour earlier. You bounced harshly and rolled over. You crawled towards the edge and he caught your ankles. He pulled you back easily and you whined in terror.

“Don’t do this,” you begged as he flipped you onto your back, “please, don’t–”

He straddled you beneath him as you smacked at his thick chest and shoulders. You flailed your legs as you desperately tried to wriggle out from the vice of his body. He grabbed the top of your button-up shirt and you clung to his hands. You couldn’t stop him as he tore and the buttons flew into a scatter.

“Clark,” you mewled, “Clark, please…”

“I’ve been thinking of this for so long,” he purred and bent over you, his lips pecking along your throat and chest, “sometimes I just watch you when you’re here and think… think about what I wanna do with you.”

“Please,” you pushed on his head, your fingers twining with his thick curls.

“And I…” he exhaled and slid the straps of your bra down your arms, “think about this…” he took a nipple in his mouth and suckled as his thighs moved lower atop your legs, “even when Lois is here…”

You croaked and trembled helplessly beneath him as his hands roved as fervently as his mouth. He pushed a knee between your legs and lifted his head to hover over yours. His breath danced over your lips and he kissed you as his other leg pushed yours apart. His fingers hooked in the back of your pants and you whimpered into his mouth.

“Shhh,” he drew back and caressed your cheek as he peered into your eyes, “it’s okay, I just want to love you.”

You whined through your teeth in frustration as his body weighed yours down. He tugged your pants down over your ass and sat back to tear them down your legs, quickly pushing them back around him. He played with the elastic of your panties and pressed his fingers to the crotch, rubbing through them as he kissed you again.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered as his lips dragged down your jaw and he slid your panties aside, his fingertips quickly found your clit again, “I only wanted to keep you safe… keep you mine.”

He dipped his fingers into you and the heel of his hand pressed firm to your bud. You gasped and turned your head away as he nibbled along your throat. He teased you until you were wet and pulled his hand back to fumble with the front of his pants. The panic swelled in your chest again as he wiggled his hips and freed himself over his fly.

“No…” you shoved his shoulders as he lined himself up with your entrance, he looked into your eyes and you framed his face with your hands, “please, don’t–”

He impaled you with a grunt and you cried out. Your fingers curled around his jaw as he jerked your body with each thrust. His eyes rolled back as he was lost in the smoke of his lust. His hips moved harder and faster each time your walls twitched around him and his growls filled your ears in a horrid drone.

“It hurts,” you gulped, “Clark–” You sobbed and tugged his hair as he bit at your neck and groped your chest, “you said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

He purred and ignored your protest, your cunt ached around him as he battered your thighs. You hit your head against the mattress in defeat and grunted. He pushed you deeper into the springs and your body bounced against his easily. You slapped his thick arms and closed your eyes, turning your head away as you tried to escape his grasp.

You were trapped, tortured, and terrified. You could only wait for it to be over. You could only hope when it was, he’d let you go.

💗💗💗

**Please leave some feedback if you enjoyed. Thanks for reading.**


	19. Buying In (mob!Ransom Drysdale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon sexual acts, finger, coercion.  
> This is dark!(mob)Ransom Drysdale and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

_**Based on these drabble requests:** _

**_Ransom Drysdale + “It’s cute how you think you can just leave me.” + Mob AU + Reader does a small job for Mob!Ransom and thinks they are square. He shows her differently_ **

* * *

“That’s everything,” you laid down the final stack of bills, “the whole safe.”

“Mmm,” Ransom reached over and flipped through one of the bundles, “really?”

“It’s a convenience store, not a bank,” you said, “told my boss it was a glitch in the cameras but…” you shook your head and crossed your arms, “don’t think I’ll have a job once he figures it out, even if he doesn’t know it was me.”

He smirked and put the money back on the table. He leaned on his side of it, palms flat to the wood, and tilted his head.

“Big loss, I’m sure, ringing up forty-hour old hotdogs and cigarettes,” he chuckled, “you know, I could find a place for you here.”

“Here? No, we’re even,” you stepped back from the table, “that was the deal. You got your money and now you leave me alone.”

“Is that what you think? This,” he pointed at each stack, “that’ll buy you a couple months, six if I’m being generous and I do have a bit of a soft spot for you.”

“I really doubt every tenant in that slum pays you thousands to fuck off,” you hissed.

“They do other things for me. They keep their mouths shut,” he snarled, “and that’s all I need from them.”

You swallowed and played with the zipper of your purse, “can I go now?”

His lips straightened and a wrinkle rippled across his forehead. His blue eyes darkened and he stood up.

“The money is nothing. I got money. It was an excuse really, a game. I like seeing you squirm.”

“You got what you wanted, I’m out,” you turned and headed for the door. He beat you to it and slammed it shut as you tried to open it. You turned to face with a scowl.

“It’s cute how you think you can just leave me,” his hand stayed planted beside your head, “your boss is gonna know it was you and you’ll be out. And if he goes to the police, you’ll be wanted. Now who do you think is gonna save you from them?”

“Move, Ransom,” you pulled on the door handle but it didn’t budge, “we’re done.”

“We’re just getting started,” his hand fell to your arm and he ripped you away from the door, “imagine all the pretty little things I can buy you with all this,” he grabbed the back of your neck and forced you towards the table, “huh,” his other hand crawled around your side and along your stomach, “I could dress you up really nice.”

“Get off,” you pulled at his hand and he pushed you over, your head hitting the wood hard as he held you bent over the table.

“You’re gonna have to dress the part when I take you home,” he got behind you and pushed his crotch against your ass, “my grandfather has this amazing house out in the woods, I could take you to the lake… we could swim… huh?”

“Stop,” you pushed on the table but your arms only shook as he leaned weight on the back of your neck.

“That little shithole you live in, is that really worth all this? I’m offering you more.”

“I don’t want–”

He lifted your head slightly and slammed it back down.

“Shhh,” he hooked a finger in the waist of your jeans, “you know how much worse I could make it for you? You really wanna go down that road? I wouldn’t mind so much, you’d be right back here begging me… but I don’t know if I’d be as generous then.”

“Ransom,” you whimpered.

“Mmm, say it again,” he purred and wiggled against you as he snaked his hand around your front.

“Ransom, please, stop–”

He unbuttoned your fly and flick the zipper down. He bent over you and shoved his hand down the front of your panties. He slid two fingers against your cunt and rubbed. You quivered and balled your hands against the table. His hot breath tickled your neck as he growled against your cheek.

“You can have this,” he toyed with your clit and you choked on air, “or you can keep holding out and sell it down an alley in a month.”

“Get–”

He pressed harder and you moan as his hand sped up. He rocked against you, his own arousal obvious against your ass. His breath hitched as he slipped his hand further back and poked two fingers inside of you. To your shame, you were wet. To his delight, you clenched around his knuckles.

“So tell me, what’s it gonna be, baby?”

💲💲💲

**If you enjoyed, please tell me what you think!**


	20. Home Sweet Home (Steve Rogers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: coercion, intimidation, some violence  
> This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

_**Based on these drabble requests:** _

**_Steve Rogers + “You can have it back when you’ve earned it.” + Stalking/obsession + A scenario where Steve and the reader have had to be in close quarters for a while (maybe pretending to be married for a mission or something along those lines) and at the end of it, Steve decides he isn’t letting the reader go. Anything like that would be great!_ **

* * *

“What are you doing?” Steve crossed his arms as he leaned on the doorframe, his button up taut around his thick biceps.

You looked up as you finished clearing the chamber of your gun and replaced it in the case with all the others. You flipped the lid and zipped it up. You smiled to yourself and looked down at your ridiculous, tweety bird yellow cardigan.

“Aren’t you excited to go back?” you asked, “I can’t wait to get out of these khakis.”

“Go back?”

He pushed himself away from the door and neared the end of the bed. He sat as you pulled the bag off the mattress and tucked it back underneath. He pinched his middle finger and stared at his hands. He sighed.

“Can’t wait to be away from me, huh?” he asked.

“What? Steve, you know, it’s been months, I’m sure you can’t wait to see–”

“I wake up every morning beside you and I’m happy,” he lifted his head and turned to stare you down.

“Uh…” you scoffed and shook your head, “this is– Steve, it’s just a mission. It was all pretend.”

“It didn’t feel pretend,” he stood abruptly, “tell me it did.”

“This is why we need to get back,” you tutted and went to the vanity against the wall, “we’ve both got cabin fever in here. If I have to listen to Linda–”

“It’s real,” he said as he came up behind you and snapped the drawer shut. His placed his hands on the top of the vanity, his arms caging you in as you looked at him in the mirror, “I don’t wanna go back. I don’t wanna let you go.”

“Steve, you know we have to,” you touched his wrist, “whatever’s going on with you– we’ve been here too long–”

“I’ve been waiting too long,” he twisted his wrists and grabbed yours, then the other, “laying beside you every night, not a touch, not a kiss, nothing. But it’s all I can think about.”

“Steve, let me go,” you said evenly, “we’ll leave tonight. Right now, get you back. You need to get out.”

“No,” he bent his head and nuzzled your shoulder, “I need you.”

You stomped his foot and his hands flew up. You spun and shoved him away.

“Stop,” you pointed at him, “I’m warning you. Now I know it’s been a long mission but–”

He seized your hand and bent it back. You cried out as he twisted your arm behind you and thrust you onto the bed. He straddled you beneath him as he held your wrist between your shoulder blades and you kicked out.

“Ow, what the fuck, Steve!”

“Shh,” he pet the back of your head as he leaned in, “I know you love me, honey.”

“Get off–”

He pushed on your arm and it felt as if it would snap. You shrieked and wriggled but only added to the pressure on your elbow. You lifted your head and his other hand went to your throat. He gripped your jaw and turned your head as he kissed your lips. You struggled but there was no escape.

“I only want to be nice to you, honey,” he purred as his lips brushed yours, “I’ll be your perfect husband.”

🏠🏠🏠


	21. Mine For The Weekend (Andy Barber)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: creepy, implied noncon, age gap  
> This is dark!(silverfox) Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

_**Based on these drabble requests:** _

**_Andy Barber + “You want it so badly, all you have to do is ask.” + Cheating + He has a son who has a gf and he likes the gf and one day he finally forces her to have sex with him and maybe the son catches on or not._ **

(In this story, Jacob is in his 20s, reader is the same age, and Andy is a little older than in the show. Don’t @me)

📖📖📖

You sat on the twin bed in the room still decorated with the fandoms of Jacob’s teenage years. It was weird but just as weird as staying the weekend in his family home could be. You always stressed about being in someone else’s house. You’d met his parents on several occasions but it still felt tenuous, like you were all putting on an act and waiting to see who cracked first.

He told you would be long. Jacob wanted to see some old friends and you didn’t want to be the third wheel out of place. Besides, after the trip, you were tired and okay with just staying still.

You turned the page of the textbook, trying to make the formulas stick in your head. You were so engrossed in trying to understand, spurred on by your last mediocre test, that you didn’t notice the figure in the doorway. Not until you yawned and nearly choked on your tongue.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Andy said. He wore his usual suit, his polished shoes, and straight tie. His temples were dusted with silver and a few strands clustered together in his beard. 

“It’s okay, I was just studying,” you smiled, “Jacob went to see a few friends.”

“I figured,” he stepped carefully over the threshold, “half day for me. I don’t usually go in on Saturday’s.”

“Well, that’s nice,” you said tensely, “Laurie–”

“Ah you know, she has her book club on Saturdays,” he shrugged, “weird how empty the house is now Jacob’s away at college. I’m not used to it.”

“Oh,” you closed the textbook and set it on the night table.

“But I…” he neared the foot of the bed and sat just below your feet, “I was gonna order lunch, you haven’t eaten, have you?”

Your stomach growled and you both chuckled at the noise, “no, I haven’t,” you admitted.

“Well, what were you thinking?” he asked as he leaned back on the heel of his hand, “there’s a burger joint we used to order from, or a sushi place. You seem like a sushi girl.”

“Both sound fine,” you looked around the room, “I just have to dig out my wallet if I can remember where I dropped my purse.”

You turned your feet over the side of the bed and he stopped you, his hand on your knee. He quickly pulled it away.

“My treat,” he cleared his throat, “your my guest–”

“Guest? You didn’t seem like you were expecting me last night,” you kidded.

“Jacob’s fault,” he assured you, “but you’re always welcome.”

You smiled and the awkward silence returned. Andy and Laurie were so well to do, you should’ve known. Jacob was such a brat sometimes but he made you laugh. It made it harder to explain why he couldn’t meet your parents. He wouldn’t understand that shame.

As you thought, you felt a tickle on your cheek and looked at Andy as he held up his finger, “eyelash,” he said as the fine hair stood on his fingertip, “make a wish.”

“What?” you blinked.

“You never– they say if you blow away an eyelash your wish will come true,” he explained.

“Oh, no, I never– never heard that one,” you laughed at yourself and thought, you wished you passed your next exam. 

You blew on his finger and the hair flew away. You flinched as his hand moved and he cradled your face. His thumb ran across your lip and you froze, staring at him. Was this normal? Was this how father’s treated their daughters? You didn’t know, your father, as little as he was around, only ever told you to go away. Or made you.

“Mr. Barber,” you breathed.

“Andy,” he corrected you and reached for your other hand. He drew it over your lap and into his, “You want it so badly, all you have to do is ask.”

“Wha–” you gasped and he crushed his lips against yours.

He turned to push you down against the mattress and bent over you as he held your hand against his pants. You moaned in surprise as he poked his tongue along your lips and you tried to keep him out. You turned your face away and he pulled back. He moved your hand up and down the outline of his hard dick.

“What are you doing?” you whispered as you pushed on his chest.

“The way you looked at me last night,” he rubbed his nose against yours, “you laugh at all my jokes… you stayed here for a reason. All alone…” he pecked your lips again, “you could’ve gone with Jacob, but you stayed, you waited for me–”

“No,” you batted as his shoulder, “Mr.–”

“Andy,” he moved so that his entire body covered yours, his legs hung between yours of the side of bed, “call me Andy,” he kissed you deeply and groaned so you felt it in your throat, “you’ll be crying it out soon enough.”

📖📖📖

**If you enjoy, please let me know what you think.**


	22. Like Mother, Like Daughter (Lee Bodecker)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon/rape, mentions of prostitution, bullying/humiliation, coercion.  
> This is dark!Lee Bodecker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

_**Based on these drabble requests:** _

**_Lee Bodecker + “I could crush your throat right now.” + Humiliation/bullying + y/n is the daughter of the town’s hooker, but she is nothing like her mother, everyone is mean to her just because her mom’s work . Lee have fun with her just bc for him she is the same trash as her mother. requested by anonymous._ **

* * *

You could still smell the alcohol on your mother. Her hair and clothes stank of it and the stale piss of the county jail cell. It made your eyes water, just like the glares of the townsfolk as you left the precinct.

They all knew, it was a small place, _how could they not?_ They saw you almost every week bringing your ma out those doors, another twenty dollars to the station to set her free so she could do it all again. The same spite and disgust in their stares, the same judgment bearing down on you like a coyote on a barn cat.

“What happened to the grocery store?” you asked your ma quietly, “you said you wouldn’t do this no more. You don’t need to, ma. We got food, a roof–”

“Johnny Hatton gave me a whole bottle of whiskey,” she said, her voice still thick from the alcohol, “and for what, five minutes with my hand.”

“I don’t need to hear that,” you scowled and kept your head down as Gerry, the butcher, spat at your feet as you passed, “you want some drink, I can buy you drink, ma, but you shouldn’t be gettin’ so drunk, neither.”

“Gail fired me,” she grumbled and you kept her up before she could tumble, “found the bottle in my bag. Now I was gon’ pay for it before I left–”

You sighed and came to a stop at the corner as a car drove in front of you. You waited and watched the tail light. You took a step off the curb and nearly hit the side of the cruiser as it pulled up. The sheriff bent to meet your eye from the other end of the seat and you clung to your mother.

“Need a ride?” he asked.

“She just got out, sheriff, we’re just on our way home,” you said quietly. It was often Sheriff Bodecker who signed over your ma to you but that morning had been a cadet.

“Easier with some wheels under ya,” he said.

You sniffed and looked around. He was never overly friendly, the stern officer and his wide-brimmed hat put fear into most around, even when they hadn’t committed an offense. And like many in the town, he laughed at your ma and you, even asked you once or twice if you took after her.

“It’s not far,” you said, “but I appreciate the offer.”

“Nonsense,” his door swung open and he closed it heavily, “lemme help ya.” He came around and opened the back door, “you put her in here and take the front. She’s barely on her feet,” he took your mother’s other arm and angled her under the roof of the car, “whew, she smell like a sill.”

You held your tongue as your mother slumped across the leather and he shut the door. You stared at the side of the car and he touched your arm, “go on and get in, missy.”

You drew away from him and he pulled open the door. You ducked your head down and sat on the passengers side. He got in beside you and drove back out onto the street, easing into the sleepy small town traffic.

You were quiet; nervous. You didn’t know the sheriff to be a generous man, no one would ever say that of him. Your ma had sown a lot of discord in the town and you were no stranger to the bitterness that you inherited. Of all the people, Sheriff Bodecker should be most offended by her back alley antics.

“What’s a matter, missy?” he asked as he steered.

You shook your head and stared out the window. He stopped and tutted.

“Ya know, a lawman ask you a question and you should answer,” he warned, “now why you so quiet?”

“I don’t talk much, sir,” you shrugged.

“But you got a tongue,” he said, “and you fidgeting something awful over there.”

“I… just don’t know why you offer a ride,” you muttered, “ain’t no one round let my ma in their backseat, no even for a dime.”

“You looked like you needed help. I’m the sheriff, my job is to help,” he drove on and turned down your street.

“I suppose,” you said, “thank you.”

“See, now was that so hard?” he asked, “a thank you’s all I wanted.”

He pulled up in front of the ramshackle house you and your ma lived in. You got out without thinking and opened the back door. The other side opened and he grabbed your ma and dragged her out with his arms under hers. You tried to catch her ankle but he had her on her feet quickly, though she was swaying and half-unconscious.

“You show me where to put her,” he said as he kicked the door shut.

“I can take her,” you came around to him, “thank you, sheriff.”

“Nah, you go on and get the door, I can handle her a lot better than you, missy,” he said, “got a bit more brute in me.”

You held in a sigh and went around him. He turned and followed you up the slanted steps and you unlocked the front door. He lifted her feet and carried her over the threshold. You didn’t want him coming too far in so you backed up and watched him enter the front room.

“Just there on the sofa,” you pointed to the sagging cushions, “that’s fine.”

“Alright,” he crossed the room and put her down, he dusted off his hands on his pants as he stood straight. 

He looked around and removed his hat, his fingertips tapping on his pudgy stomach as he mused at the pale interior. He clicked his tongue and turned to you again.

“Well, I know your ma ain’t much of a housekeeper but it only polite to offer a guest something to drink,” he said, “something for my trouble.”

You put your purse on the chest of drawers by the door and crossed your arms. You teetered on the balls of your feet.

“I got milk or tea, sheriff,” you said, “tap water?”

“Tea,” he said, “I wouldn’t mind something to warm me up.”

You nodded and slipped past him. You went to the kitchen and moved the kettle onto the burner. You turned on the gas and heard his boots on the floor as he appeared in the doorframe. You looked up at him and carried on, searching for some leaves in the cupboard.

You sensed him getting closer and he came up behind you. His arms snaked under yours as you reached up and moved aside the cans and boxes. He cupped your tits and pushed you against the counter. You dropped your hands to his and tried to tear them away from your chest.

“What’re you doin’?” you gasped as you wrestled with him.

“I’d say you owe me,” he rocked you against the counter, “wouldn’t you?”

“Please, let go of me,” you begged, “I’m makin’ you tea–”

“I don’t want tea,” his hand crawled down and he yanked at your skirt, “like mother like daughter, huh? You know how to pay a man.”

“Stop,” you slapped his hand and he ignored you.

He spun your around and your head swam from the suddenness of it. He scooped you up easily and sat you on the counter as he pushed between your knees. He shoved your skirt up as you fought to keep the hem down. You kicked out around him as he reached for your knickers.

“Sheriff!” you cried out.

“You wan’ wake your ma?” he growled, “let her know she taught you well? If she can even be woke.”

He snickered and tore your underwear down your legs, moving back only to get them past your ankles. He slid quickly between your legs again and pulled your closer. He grabbed your jaw and squeezed as his other hand fumbled with his belt. You whined and writhed against him.

“Now, you stay still,” his hand went to his holster, “don’t make me do anything rash, missy. I could crush your throat right now.”

“Please, sheriff,” you grabbed his wrist as he held your chin.

“You already beggin’ me, missy,” he pushed his zipper down and stepped closer as he pulled himself out above his underwear, “now let’s not get too loud or you’ll be disturbin’ the neighbours.”

He poked against your cunt as he slid you closer and reached between you to line himself up. He pushed into you with a sharp thrust and you exclaimed. His grip tightened on your jaw as your lips parted and he covered your mouth with his.

He tilted his hips painfully against you, lifting you slightly off the counter as he did. He nibbled your lip as his hand wandered down to grope your chest again. His breath hitched as he fucked you and you were surrounded by his heat. You quivered as each crash of his pelvis hurt worse than the last.

“That’s it, missy,” he purred and bent your leg around him, “just like that. Move them hips, girl.”


	23. Small Town Secrets (Lee Bodecker)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon/rape, mentions of cheating, fuck machine, oral, blackmail, no edit.  
> This is dark!Lee Bodecker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

_**Based on these drabble requests:** _

**_Lee Bodecker + “I’ve done so much for you, don’t you think you owe me?” + Blackmail + (I hope you can do this) I would like to consider this as a form of continuation of the story that you uploaded a while ago, it does not have to be this way if you do not feel comfortable. Lee continues to blackmail the waitress, when he is in the restaurant talking to her, he sees how her husband arrives to spend time with her and he gets jealous, so when he goes to see her at night he decides to make her his forever so he gives her the gift of having his babies [Sorry I will not be continuing this fic in a drabble if I do a sequel but I am more than happy to write a drabble with your prompts)_ **

**_Lee Bodecker + “I heard you last night. I hear you every night.” + fuck machine + As always I’m leaving it up to you[@sweetkingdomstarlight-blog](https://tmblr.co/mw9ze4204jOzTat9sG7BPYQ)_ **

**_Lee Bodecker + “You took the condom off?” + Blackmail + Lee forces himself on the reader one day and she tells him to at least put a condom and he never does and then that line comes on when he says something and she realizes he took it off and will impregnate her._ **

* * *

You poured another cup for the sheriff and took out your cloth to wipe away a clumsy dribble from the table. You tucked the rag back into your apron as Bodecker reached for the sugar bowl. 

“Anything else?” you asked. The diner was dead, it was almost midnight as the sheriff came off duty.

“How about you sit?” he looked around, “isn’t very busy and you don’t need to be prancing around on my behalf.

“I really shouldn’t–”

“Oh come on, Jethro’s home sleepin’, he won’t know you been sittin’ on the clock,” he coaxed, “and ‘sides, I’d say I outrank him.”

You looked at him and hesitated. You put your hand on the corner of the table and slid onto the seat opposite him. You set down the carafe lightly. He stirred his coffee and watched the cream swirl and pale the brew. His lips twitched as his eyes flicked up.

“I heard you last night…” he said.

“What?” you chuckled.

“I heard you last night. I hear you every night,” his tongue poked out and he sat back smugly, “sneaking into Lawrence Hayes’ Chrysler, just outside the old hole down on Tulsa Avenue.”

You frowned. You gulped as your blood ran cold and you tried not to flinch.

“I don’t know what you mean, sheriff, and I should get back to my work,” you tried to stand and he caught your hand on the table top. He jerked your arm and you sat back down.

“You think Annie Hayes would be interested to know what you’re doin’ with her husband?” he arched a brow, “not hard to guess but considerin’ what I’ve heard, I can be assured my guess is correct.”

You stared at him. You ripped your wrist from his grasp and crossed your arms.

“Why are you bringing this up, then?” you hissed.

“How ‘bout you meet me down on Tulsa tonight,” he smirked, “don’t worry, I treat you better than Larry, I ain’t like fuckin’ in no back seat.”

You looked at the carafe. You glanced over at the kitchen then at the clock above the counter.

“I don’t get off till four a.m.,” you said.

“I can wait,” he gulped down and mouthful and watched you over the cup, “I already been waitin’.”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked.

“I’ve done so much for you, don’t you think you owe me?” he taunted.

“Done what?”

“Kept your secret. You really wanna be known as the town whore?” he tilted his head, “nah, we can keep that ‘tween you and me.”

👮🏻‍♂️

The sheriff drove in silence. The anticipation and the knowledge of his intent kept you quiet too. His wandering eyes found you in the mirror as he pulled up to a house outside your small town. The sheriff lived out in the fields among the farmhouse, almost at the very centre of his county.

His door closing jarred you from your dread. He opened yours and grabbed your arm. The gravel gritted under your thin soles as he swept his arm around your waist and ushered you up the porch steps. The leather of his jacket squeaked as he pulled back the screen door and pushed open the thicker one.

He nudged you ahead of him and took off his hat. He hung it on a hook by the door and bent to untie his boots.

“Do me a favour, honey,” he said, “you go up and get yourself ready for me. Last door to the right.”

“I…” your voice trailed off, “I don’t…”

“Get naked, relax,” he snipped as he stood and kicked off his boots, “I’ll bring you something ease your nerves.”

You looked away and turned slowly. You went to the stairs and paused as your hand rested on the bannister. He passed by the steps and continued down the lower hallway. You climbed heavily and followed his direction to the last room. You looked around at the flowered canopy and the patched quilt.

You remembered the sheriff’s wife died a few years back. Everyone heard about that, they said he was crueler since then. In that moment, you would agree with them.

You undressed a piece at a time and shivered. You thought of keeping your clothes on and escaping through the window but you’d only hurt yourself in the drop down. You wouldn’t far neither out in the fields.

You sat on the end of the bed, legs crossed and arms hugging your chest. The dawn began to brighten outside the panes and the morning nip made you shiver. Bodecker entered and set down a glass in the dim. He flipped on a lamp and looked you over. He brought you the dark wine in the tall pint glass.

“You drink that down while I get set up,” he said, “you gonna want to drink it all.”

You took it and watched him. He snapped his fingers at you as he went to the closet. You turned away and sipped the acrid wine. It made your nose wrinkle and your throat tighten. You heard a creak and but kept staring at the door, your escape taunting you. You could leave but that meant your reputation and possibly everything else.

You’d come this far, you thought. You knocked back a large mouthful and coughed. You finished the rest and your chest burned darkly. You got up to put the glass aside and shyly spun back to the sheriff as he came up to the side of the bed.

You gaped at the odd machine he wheeled closer. The big wooden box had an arm attached to it and rubber extension in the shape of a man’s member. You covered yourself again and shook your swimming head.

“Go on,” he pointed to the bed, “on your knees there, let me see your ass.” You blinked at the odd machine and he huffed, “you’re makin’ me real tired of repeating myself.”

You got closer and crawled up on the bed, all pretense of modesty gone as you turned and exposed yourself to him. Your arms shook as you turned your ass to face him and his large hand spread across your flesh. He slapped you and groaned as you heard the wheels. He pushed it so that the rubber poked your ass.

“Get on higher,” he grabbed your hip and repositioned you, “that’s it.”

The rubber tip poked at your cunt and he slid a finger between you and the toy. He felt around until he found your clit and stoked with two fingers until you quivered. You bit back your voice as the cool air and the wine mingled with your reluctant arousal.

“Alright,” he pulled back his hand and pushed the machine against you once more. He guided your hips and rolled the machine to the very edge of the bed until it stretched your walls. You squeaked as he sheathed the entire length inside of you. “Now hold still and keep your legs locked,” he tickled your thigh, “we’ll go slow.”

He flicked the switch and the toy moved back. It shot forward again, then back, the forward, a steady but easy motion as you grew wet around it. You looked over your shoulder and he slapped your ass again. You clenched around the toy and he pointed over your head.

“Eyes forward,” he said, “I’ll give you something to focus on.”

He fiddled with the machine until the arm moved faster, a mechanical whir bit through the air. You groaned as your body responded to the constant fucking. Bodecker came around and walked across the bed on his knees. He undid his fly and pulled himself out. He stroked his dick as he grabbed the back of your head.

“I bet you ain’t never had it from both ends,” he purred and pressed his tip to your lips, “don’t even know what it is to be filled up completely.”

He shoved himself into your mouth and you gagged around him. Your throat squeezed around him as he invaded it and he soon matched the pace of the machine. His hips bucked as he moans floated around you. You hummed helplessly as your breath grew laboured and your eyes watered.

Your body tensed as the machine made you cum. You whined and the sheriff caressed your scalp with his fingers as he slowed your head. He slid out of your mouth and watched the strings of spit hang from your lips. He winked and growled as he backed off the bed.

“That wine must make you feel so good,” he said, “makes it easy, don’t it?”

He went around you and stopped the machine. He pulled it out of you and you twitched. He wheeled it back and you pushed your legs together.

“Don’t you worry,” he went to the dresser and turned back with a square in his hand. He peeled open the condom and slid it onto his hard dick as he neared, “we don’t want an accident now.”

He went behind you and pushed your ass down until you were on your stomach. He climbed up and kneaded your ass and thighs before he straddled you completely. He forced his hand between your legs and angled his dick against your opening. He leaned on you heavily, his arm across your shoulder and thrust into you.

You lifted your ass you ached around him. He went even deeper, the wool of his pants and his linen shirt scratching your sweaty skin. He moved his hips evenly, his hot breath against the back of your head, panting hungrily as he fucked you.

“You like that?” he asked, “Tell me Hayes ever make you feel like this?”

You groaned and pushed your face into the quilt. Your fingers curled around the stitches and you arched your back. He pulled back, entirely out of you, and slammed back into his limit. He jerked your body entirely and you cried out. He repeated the motion over and over, each time he seemed to sink further than the last.

“Mmm, any man’d keep this a secret, huh?” he purred.

Your head lolled back and forth, you whined and drooled like an animal as he rutted into you. Your walls tightened around him and your thighs tingled with another orgasm. You barely smothered it against the blanket but he kept going.

“I’m gonna give you a nice little gift,” he snarled, “we’ll see if he still wants you after.”

He slammed into you and you spasmed. He puffed into your neck as his weight made your body ache. He came with a tortured groan and you felt a warmth seep into you. Your eyes snapped open and you turned your head.

You shoved your hand down under you as he pulled out and threw himself off of you. He fell onto his back as his cum dripped down your fingers.

“You took the condom off?” you rolled over and sat up.

“Mmm, you like keepin’ secrets, don’t you?” he sneered, “that’ll be a tough one.”

👮🏻‍♂️ 👮🏻‍♂️ 👮🏻‍♂️

**Let me know what you think! Please and thank you!**


	24. An Offer (Steve Rogers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: coercion, threats, slightly blackmail-ish, intimidation, entrapment, implied noncon  
> This is dark!(lumberjack/nomad) Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

_**Based on this drabble request:** _

**_Nomad Steve Rogers + “You’ll never find anyone better than me.” + Lumberjack AU + Smashed and broken dreams of a good career forces reader back home. With a degree in her hand but no real chance of finding a good job reader has to accept any job she finds and Steve isn’t making it easy cause he wants her so he sabotages any job opportunity to make her depended on him. This really hits home 😭. Sorry 😭._ **

* * *

When you sat in your college lectures, you never expected to end up there. Never expected to be carrying armfuls of wood to a large stack, splinters catching in your gloves as each piece clacked between the noise of the logs being split. You didn’t expect to be working for pennies, busting your ass for hours, just to pay for the room above the liquor store in your hometown.

You didn’t expect any of it. It was a surreal nightmare. It was as if that purgatory could never let you go. The small town’s always claimed what was theirs. Blood grown of that soil could not venture far before the roots dragged them back, a constricting coil around the throat.

Another log split, almost exploding as the two halves fell on either side of the stump. Steve took one and chopped it again, then the other. Perfect quarters for you to pile in your arms and add to the mounting stack. Your sweat soaked the flannel coat, the same kind your father wore when you were a child, the same that everyone in town seemed to have somewhere in their closets.

Steve rested the head of the axe on the stump and leaned on it as he watched you.

“Think that’ll do,” he said as you heard him scratch his beard, “supposed to be a mild winter.”

“Mild? Around here? You know that just means the snow stops at the knee, right?”

You carried the last of the wood to the pile and laid it out in the niches perfectly. It was like a Tetris game, every piece had its place. You clapped off your gloves and looked back at Steve as he shook out his jacket and pulled it back on. Even as his work left him sweaty, you didn’t know how he could stand to take it off and bear the bitter winds in only a tee.

“My knees are higher than yours,” he said, “think I’ll be fine.”

“Uh huh,” you put your hands on your hips and looked out at the trees, the sun setting behind them in an amber haze.

“Hey,” he interrupted your sightseeing, “how about you stay for dinner? I finally tried that chili recipe…”

“You? Cooking?” you shook your head, “so that’s why I’m out here lugging wood.”

“Is that yes?”

“Do you have pepto?” you joked, “sure, guess I could. Save me the trouble of opening a can at home.”

You followed him inside as he held the door for you. You shoved your gloves in your flannel pocket and hung it as you wiggled out of your boots. Usually you tidied and did the household chores as Steve worked outside. It wasn’t much of a job but there was nothing to be had in the lifeless town. Still, even with the work you found in the city, you couldn’t afford even a closet to live in.

The house was nice, big. The country land was cheap and as Steve told it, he built the entire thing himself. It was a wooden castle with better amenities than most of the antique houses in town. He bragged about how he chose every countertop and cut down every leg of every chair and sanded and polished the thick table over a willowy fall.

But you wondered how he ended up there. He wasn’t from the town and his accent was not of the nearby metropolis. He must be from far away. You could see it was an escape from the life he didn’t talk about.

You sat at the table as he clinked around in the kitchen. He came out with two red bowls and set one before you as he sat at the corner near you. He handed you a spoon with a wooden handle and you twirled it as you watched the chili steam.

“Did you make these too?” you asked.

“Ha,” he said dryly and stirred his bowl.

“Well…” you shrugged and looked around.

He smiled at you and leaned his head back until his neck cracked. He let his spoon rest and rubbed his jaw. It twitched and he looked out the big bay windows of the dining room, the ridged bark and overgrown grass staring back.

“I…” he shifted and leaned on the arm of the chair, “I slipped your pay in your jacket.”

“Oh, thanks,” you were embarrassed to talk about money. He knew how little you made even if he did pay you generously for the work you did.

“But… I did want to talk about it, er, about…” he sighed and rested his chin in his hand as he traced his lower lip in thought. He sat up and cleared his throat, “we get along, don’t we?”

“Sure,” you blew on a spoonful and tasted the chili. It was spicy but not bad.

“I know how hard it’s been, Maggie, Lester, Jeff… tough break.”

You swallowed and sat back. You frowned. “How did you…” your resume had been turned down by almost every business owner and manager in town.

“It’s a small place, like that box you’re living in.”

“Steve–”

“I’m not saying it to embarrass you but… because I… want to…” he gripped his spoon, thought about having a bite, then let it go again, “I want to make you an offer.”

“You pay me more than you should for doing your chores,” you left your spoon in the bowl and ran your nails up and down your jeans, picking at the little metal snap by the pocket.

“That’s not–” he squared his shoulders and all humour left his face. He bit down and the vein in his head surged, “you could live here. The place is more than big enough… lonely.”

“I can’t–”

“Please, just listen,” he raised his palms, “I’m lonely and you’re in a bind. We could help each other.”

You squinted and shook your head. He took a breath and leaned forward. He reached under the table and touched your knee. He slid his hand up your thigh until it met yours and you stopped him.

“What–”

“You don’t even have to keep on cleaning or any of that,” he said quietly, “just be mine. You’ll be comfortable here. All you have to do is… be here… with me.”

“Steve,” you held onto his thick fingers, “maybe you don’t mean it that way but I’m not… not a prostitute.”

“It wouldn’t be that,” his throat constricted, “it would be convenient; practical.”

“I should go,” you shoved his hand off of you and stood, “you did a good job with the chili.”

The chair scraped behind you as you stepped out from between it and the table. Steve was fast and caught your shoulder before you could evade him.

“Go where? Do what exactly?” his voice was stern and stolid, “huh? No one in town’s gonna hire you, we both know that. And you can’t make it in the city.”

“That’s mean, Steve, I want to go,” you pouted, “let me go.”

“Why can’t you see I’m helping you?”

“You have helped me but what you’re… offering is insulting, don’t you understand?”

“It’s generous is what I’d say,” he grabbed your other arm and pulled you close as he snarled down at you, “I can give you everything you need and want, all you have to do is give me…” his eyes crawled down your body, “a little sweetness.”

“Steve–”

“You’re proud, I get it, you don’t want to admit you have no choice but what happens when Fletcher needs that room for storage or he rents it out to a higher bidder? Where do you go then? Huh, you keep handing out that resume and what has that degree got you but sorrys and no thank yous?”

“Get off–” you pushed on his chest as he squeezed your arms painfully.

“Let me tell you I will be the only yes you ever get,” he growled, “I made sure of it.”

“Wha– I–”

“I’m not driving you back to town,” he released you, “so if you really wanna go, if your pride is worth all that, you can walk and see if you beat the wolves. Or you can stay and earn that extra bill I put in your pocket.”

“Steve, what the hell?”

“Your call,” his fingers stretched around the waist of his jeans as he flexed his chest, “reception’s shit so good luck getting a ride.”

“You can’t–”

“Let me make this easy for you. Walk and see if you make it home, stay and you’re already home.”

You searched his face. You’d never seen this side of him. You blinked and spun on your heel. _Fuck him_. You’d drive yourself and he could tell the police you stole his truck. You ran to the front door and snatched his keys from the hook. You bent to grab your boots but his hand on the back of your neck stopped you. 

He wrenched you back and tossed you against the wall. The keys tumbled to the floor and he kicked them away, “no cheating,” he said, “you wanna go then?”

Before you could answer the high whine of a coyote cut through the air and the glass slats of the front door dimmed. You faced him and your heart beat wildly.

“Why?”

“You going?” he asked again.

“Steve–”

“Well?”

“You can’t do this,” you pleaded, “keep your money then. Just take me home.”

“No,” he marched towards you and pinned you by your neck against the wall. His hand threatened to stifle your breath as he leaned in, “go or stay?”

You batted away tears with your lashes. You turned your head as far as you could whimpered as the sky continued to darken through the marbled glass, “Steve.”

“Go or stay?” he rasped as his breath tickled your cheek.

You trembled and touched his wrist. He squeezed just a little and you gasped, “and if I get lost? If I die out there?”

His lips curved and he chuckled lightly, “you willing to take that risk?”

You watched him, looking for any crack in his veneer, looking for an ounce of the man who’d been your godsend in that desolate town. He wasn’t there. It had all been an act, a trick. He had you in his snare like any good hunter.

“What choice do I have?” you whispered.

He pressed his forehead to yours and his large nose brushed against the tip of yours, “I’m not that bad,” his other hand crept along your stomach, “you’ll see that,” he played with the ribbed cotton, “you’ll never find anyone better than me.”

🪓🪓🪓

**Please leave some feedback if you enjoyed. Thank you 💕**


	25. On the Side (Andy Barber)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon and rape, forced breeding/pregnancy, intimidation, abuse of power, breaking and entering, cheating.  
> This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

_**Based on this drabble request:** _

_**Andy Barber + breeding/forced pregnancy + “how did you get in here?” + I want chaos, maybe the reader figures out she is pregnant or something. Abuse of authority by him or maybe a post kid scene by Andy. I would love if a post kid glimpse is included and how the reader is scared af of Andy with time.[@oneoftheprettynerds](https://tmblr.co/mVZENRGu_cPpGwd2S3AEuTg)** _

* * *

🧸🧸🧸

Nothing was like it used to be, especially you. Your hands shook when you were lost in thought, when you thought of him, and that happened often. _How could you not every morning when you woke up and found yourself bigger than the last? As your stomach grew and made it harder to forget?_

Even when the nausea dissipated, the ache in your hips took its place as the shadow of his deed. 

You laid on the couch, your head against the arm and your hand on your stomach. You dozed off quickly as the television buzzed. There was so much to do but you didn’t have the energy; dishes, mopping, sweeping, you really should take the trash out too. All those worries faded but were replaced by another in your subconscious.

The memory twisted in your mind to a nightmare. Jacob was too old for a babysitter but Laurie also didn’t trust him after his run-in with the law, the story that painted the Nelson headlines for months. You were a bit old yourself to be watching kids for under minimum wage but it was as much a favour as it was a job.

After your placement at the children’s home ended, it was just a temporary gig. And with your modest pay often came a free meal. Jacob was a twerp, he hated that you were his personal chaperone, that at his age he was being treated like a toddler. You couldn’t fault him but neither could you his mother.

And Andy, her husband, he thought it was sort of funny when he wasn’t brooding over his son or lecturing him. He wasn’t as suspicious or shifty around Jacob as his wife, but he still added weight to the load on the adolescent’s shoulders. He wanted him to stay out of trouble until at least college but that would be a whole other can of worms.

Then that night. You were stupid. You didn’t realise Jacob climbed out his window and when Andy came back to find him gone, you got the rant usually reserved for his son. Laurie tried to placate him but you could tell she was worried and just as frustrated with you. But his music had kept going and you swore you heard him in there.

Andy drove you around in silence, broken only by another verbal thrashing. Laurie was stupid to think she could hire a nanny for Jacob but you were worse for letting a teenager outsmart you. Then he stopped and you realised how far out you were. Jacob wouldn’t be around here, not in the slums. He was a brat but he hung with the suburban troublemakers.

“I’ll let Laurie know I decided to fire you,” he said as he shifted into park and killed the engine, “can’t trust you. Maybe you can handle primary schoolers but not our son.”

“Mr. Barber,” you begged in your distorted voice.

Your mind skipping forward and suddenly he was on top of you, the seat reclined beneath you as your shirt was twisted above your chest and your pants on the floor in front of your seat. Andy thrusted between your legs and sent pain through your spine. You tried to tell him to stop but your tortured subconscious muted you. His touch and your fear suffocated you.

You woke with a start and sat up with a groan. You blinked as you tried to shake away the dream. He was there. Sitting in the chair just watching you. It had been almost six months and suddenly he was there.

“How did you get in here?” you gasped and turned your legs over the couch, “how–” you touched your forehead, “I’m still sleeping. It’s a bad dream–”

“You’re clever,” he said and the timbre of his voice assured you that you really were awake, “not answering my calls, I thought you needed time. Then when I went around your mom’s, she said you suddenly packed up and moved out. How’s that when you were living off our scraps?”

“Andy, how– get out,” you stood but not without a struggle.

His eyes fell to your stomach, “now I know why,” he rose and kept you from getting further than the end of the couch, “you just going to raise my kid in this shithole?”

“I did you a favour. I left. So she didn’t know, so no one knew,” you tried to side step him and he grabbed your upper arms, “this shithole is mine and this baby will never be yours.”

“You’re wrong,” he urged you back and nudged you off-balance, you fell back onto the couch under your own weight, “you can’t change what happened.”

“How did you find me?” you asked.

“Got friends at the PD and you called your mother last Tuesday,” he smiled as he looked down at you.

“What about Laurie? Jacob? What you did–”

“What we did,” his hand drifted down from his belt and he brushed across the bulge twitching in his pants, “it was fun, wasn’t it?”

You shook your head and tried to push yourself up. He caught your shoulders and forced you back onto the cushion. He got to his knees on the floor between yours and cradled your stomach.

“If it wasn’t, you’d have forgotten about it completely,” he said as he pushed your shirt up and rubbed your bump, “but you didn’t.”

“No,” you caught his hand, “leave me alone–”

“If I leave you alone, you’ll be out of diapers and mashed peas before the kid’s babbling,” he snarled and gripped your hand, “I’ll do my part,” his fingers traced down the crease of your thigh, “you just gotta do yours.”

🧸🧸🧸

**If you liked this, please leave some feedback. Thanks for reading!**


	26. Talk (Stucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: allusions to noncon and rape, violence, spanking, hitting, binding.  
> This is dark!Stucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

_**Based on this drabble request:** _

**_Stucky + interrogation + “you want me to do that again… you want me to hurt you?” + Good cop/bad cop with Stucky. You can pick which one is “good” or bad_ ** **_. I guess it’s less good cop/bad cop and more like isn’t a sadist/is a sadist. They’re both bad. One of them is just more willing to outright hurt someone. Oh and they don’t need to be actual cops haha! as requested by anonymous_ **

* * *

Your shoulders throbbed, the joints loose as if they’d fallen out of the socket. Your wrists were bound behind you as you hung from them, the thick rope had you dangling like a pig for the slaughter between the two men. You tasted blood, a good smack when you refused to answer. Your ass was raw from the relentless strikes; flesh, leather, metal… they varied their assault.

You snorted and spat up a glob of red onto the floor. Your head spun as your toes barely met the cold concrete to keep you steady. The vibranium fingers wrapped around your shoulder and still you. You looked up at the man, his blue eyes a dark, endless ocean in the dim room. Underground likely, but where you could not say.

“Talk,” he repeated the same word and you chuckled, “you want me to do that again… you want me to hurt you?”

He shoved you so you turned and his hand flashed across your bare ass again. You grunted and slipped, jarring your shoulders. Barnes, the former assassin, now your enemy, was pushed away by the other man before he could smack you again. The Captain America, Steve Rogers, took his place and grabbed your chin. He made you look at him.

“He won’t hold back forever,” he said quietly, “but if you talk, I can make him.”

“Talk?” another painful snort, “and die anyway. You think I’m afraid.”

“He won’t kill you,” Steve traced your sweaty hairline with his thumb, “but I won’t stop him from whatever he decides unless you work with us.”

“You think I mean you? Honourable Captain Rogers,” you turned your head away from his grasp, “Hydra would do just as bad before they dispose of me. They trained him after all.”

The fist hit you like a train, you spun on the rope and the metallic flavour flooded your mouth. Bucky kicked you so that you faced away from him as Steve moved out of the way with a sigh. The former gripped your hips and pulled you back so your ass rested against him.

“Captain?” he asked.

“Well, you better use what Hydra taught you,” Rogers said.

🩸🩸🩸

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